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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29202546">Leather is all the rage</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWillOfMythal/pseuds/TheWillOfMythal'>TheWillOfMythal</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Sex, Bisexual Female Character, Dirty Talk, Enchanted Strap-on, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Female Ejaculation, Fluff and Smut, NSFW, Or so I've been told, Sexual Content, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, lol, smut with feelings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 05:09:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>26,066</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29202546</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWillOfMythal/pseuds/TheWillOfMythal</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Cassandra's relationship with the Inquisitor has already grown to the point of allowing her to uncover and properly acknowledge hidden romantic feelings that have, consequently, contributed to widening the Seeker's perception of pleasure to a whole new spectrum never before experienced. </p><p>Knowing a thing or two about passion herself, not to mention enthusiastic and curious to further explore these new depths leading to sexual gratification never before taken into consideration, Cassandra decides - as the woman of action that she claims to be, and unbeknown to her caring and thoughtful lover - to acquire the necessary in order to take the first step into uncharted territory. </p><p>In a most ideal and hopeful scenario, she will not die of embarrassment in her brave quest. Leliana won't be too much of a tease. Varric (and most likely Dorian) will be smart enough to not try to wring out lewd details to fill the dwarf's next smutty novel. And, most important of all, Evelyn will ultimately approve. (The Inquisitor Greatly Approves)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Female Inquisitor/Cassandra Pentaghast</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>46</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Smutty writing is... kinda my thing.</p><p>Shamelessly-Flirty/Sex-Enthusiast Female Inquisitor/Flustered Cassandra is also kind of my thing. And the combo is like melted dark chocolate and strawberries. I simply couldn't resist dipping them both into this bowl of sin.</p><p>*Speaking through a mouthful*: </p><p>Enjoy</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She is so soft and pliant under your hands.</p>
<p>So malleable and flexible. But also surprisingly firm and strong in the (deceivingly) most soft-looking places.</p>
<p>She likes it <em>particularly</em> when your hands wander there, almost on their own, without much of a conscious thought (but guided by an inexplicable surge of possessiveness). Your palms sliding around the jut of her hips, fingers gripping into the soft flesh and toned muscle of her rear, to hold onto her while you move on top, rolling your pelvis against hers, soft against soft, in a delicious, slippery whirl of slick heat.</p>
<p>It shocked you the first time (and it still marvels you), how it has never felt so natural. At such an instinctual, primal level that makes even breathing seems like a secondary necessity in comparison.</p>
<p>Just like the delicate whimpers and muffled moans that you manage to elicit from her whenever you find yourselves tangled up in such an intimate moment have never sounded more exquisite. And nothing has ever tasted more intoxicating on your tongue than the salty-sweet nectar that you have sampled from between her legs.</p>
<p>Her very essence is simply so deviously addictive that you never had a chance to resist the wholeness of her.</p>
<p>The way she writhes on the furs right now and says your name - first a murmur that quickly escalates into a series of louder, breathless moans - has a way of making that pressure coiled tightly into your lower belly unfurl and melt into the resulting liquid heat gathering at the apex of your thighs.</p>
<p>Encouraged, you flex your wrist, slide in a little deeper, and-</p>
<p>"A-ah-!"</p>
<p>
  <em>Maker...</em>
</p>
<p>The startled, delighted moan that tears from her throat and tumbles past her lips like a blissful, breathless sigh, as thick and sweet as honey, is almost enough to send you tumbling over the same cliff where you are keeping her precariously balanced. You don't know whether it is through sheer will or merely stubbornness from her part what is keeping her delaying her own release. (Maker knows she has enough of the latest that it wouldn't be a surprise if that were the case).</p>
<p>Either way, regardless of whatever nature her stalling might be, it only makes you all the more determined in breaking that resolve while holding your own pulsing desire at bay.</p>
<p>You start by ducking your head and tucking it in that spot where her shoulder and neck meet, and where the delicate, subtle flowery fragrance of her perfume mingles so intoxicatingly with the headier, delicately musky essence that is her true scent. You kiss and mouth and nibble your way up to that weak, weak spot located just under her ear. </p>
<p>She shivers and gasps. Hands grasping and clutching tightly. You grin and gloat, curling your fingers just-so against her front wall and-</p>
<p>"Oh, <em>Maker!</em>"</p>
<p>The response is immediate. <em>And</em> most flattering. Especially coming from a non-believer.</p>
<p>Maybe your ministrations are so persuasive that she is starting to grow Faith.</p>
<p>Blunt fingernails dig into your shoulder blades with no reserve and a hiss of pure delight slips through your teeth as she clings into you while her hips give a sharp jolt off the bed, legs falling greedily even more apart when she lowers herself back down, which is all the invitation you need to take her deeper, to thrust harder. Because it's not like you can deny her. (Or yourself, given the way your own body respond to such enthusiasm, to the way she pulses and tightens around you).</p>
<p>It wasn't so long ago that you would have blushed, into the deepest, most flustered shade of red (and probably even fainted for forgetting to breathe) at the mere thought of finding yourself into even a situation that involved the two of you and much less... nakedness... than your current activities involve.</p>
<p>So little did you know, however, that along with your armor, you would have also shed that stifling layer of embarrassment.</p>
<p>Evelyn did her own part in making sure to eclipse the ridiculous sense of inadequacy that - for some time - had taken over your cool and collected (perhaps a bit intimidating) demeanor the first time you indulged in the pleasure found in each other's bodies.</p>
<p>That same tiny voice whispering once again from somewhere in the back of your head that couldn't stand a chance, and ultimately got utterly <em>drowned</em> by the thunderous roar of desire thrumming through your veins; an overflowing, boiling river that scorched anything in its wake that wasn't the pure, unadulterated want and longing that you felt for her.</p>
<p>Desire, in its purest, rawest form, you found out, is quite the untamable force.</p>
<p><br/>
<em>"I-I... I don't know how-" You remember saying in that first instance, taking the occasion to breathe in between kisses, that combination of nervousness and excitement getting the better of you as your hands fiddled, equally nervous and </em>eager<em>, with the laces of her dress.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Instead of being met with one of those equally beautiful and insufferable sly grins of hers (like you were secretly afraid your admission would earn you), she had pulled a bit more back and looked at you with such earnestness and affection that - paired with the caress of her fingertips along the scar marring your (flushed) cheek - promptly melted away the tension that had seized your twitchy muscles.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Don't worry." She had simply said, lips kiss-swollen, eyes a glittering darkness of desire, yet also soft with tenderness, giving you one of those smiles that conveyed the sentiment even if she hadn't uttered the words out loud. "You'll know it."</em>
</p>
<p><em>And only </em>then <em>because she must have had noticed the way your shoulders had slumped in relief with your next breath, (and just because she is just as insufferable) she dared a little smirk.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>"Besides, you are a Seeker." She quipped. "And trust me, you'll surely know when you'd find something noteworthy." She flashed a wink and then leaned in closer to breathe sultry in your ear. "Because I won't be able to keep quiet then."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Right then though, all you wanted was to shut her up.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>And so you did. By attacking her lips in a brutally passionate kiss while your hands resumed undressing her, steady and sure and eager for the warmth and softness of her bare skin.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Cassandra..."</p>
<p>The sound of her voice, of your name being breathed with such need and reverence at once, guides you out of those fond memories and redirects you to the even more delightful present where Evelyn is looking at you with a plea in her half-lidded eyes.</p>
<p>The fiery orange glow coming from the fire in the heart licks at every patch of her exposed skin, complementing her complexion, and playing a similar game with the golden-brown, wavy locks of hair splayed on the sheets, bringing out hidden, stunning shades of auburn and copper. The sight has your mouth watering and, at the same time - defying any logic - it leaves your throat inexplicably dry.</p>
<p>Fortunately, neither affect your vocal cords. "What is it, my Lady?"</p>
<p>She shudders again, whether from the title or the next, deliberately slower thrust of your fingers as they curl inside her, you aren't sure, although you suspect it must be a combination of both.</p>
<p>"M-<em>more.</em>" Is all she manages to say. A single word that catches on the tail of a moan followed by a gasped, and oh-so polite, "Please."</p>
<p>You could insist and <em>demand</em> (she so much loves it the few times you do) that she be a little bit more explicit about what more does she want, specifically. But considering the look on her face, the shimmer of sweat on her neck and cleavage, the way she writhes beneath you, the way her inner walls pulse and tighten around your fingers, the breathlessness of her plea... It's all more persuasive than anything she could say. And you truly need nothing else to turn that request into reality.</p>
<p>You would grant her anything she asked for anyway.</p>
<p>And so, you dismount her leg only to position yourself right in between the waiting cradle of her thighs, slipping out of her only so that you can push back inside with the addition of a third finger.</p>
<p>There is barely any resistance. She simply blossoms open for you. The copious amount of slick heat eases your passage without a trace of discomfort and - persuades by the compelling warmth inside her - with just a minor adjustment, you confidently insert a fourth one at the next thrust.</p>
<p>"Oh, Fuck! Oh Andraste's tits!<em> Yes!</em>"</p>
<p>If the string of obscenities and blasphemies that keep falling from her lips in hisses of pleasure is anything to go by, then she very much appreciates the extra fullness filling her.</p>
<p>Maybe just as much as you enjoy the feeling of being surrounded by her scaldingly warm, soppingly wet, and exquisitely responsive inner walls hugging you so possessively.</p>
<p>Your wrist and the muscles of your forearm ache almost as exquisitely as the sight of her arching her back off the bed, mouth falling open with breathless gasps of utter delight. She clings even more tightly onto you as she chases the stretch and fullness of your thrusts, and within just a few seconds, her moans are already rising in pitch. And if that weren't enough, the telltale pulsing around your fingers confirms the bliss that is but a few strokes away.</p>
<p>And not only for her.</p>
<p>You might have temporarily shifted your main focus on her pleasure (as it often happens), but the rest of your body surely hasn't forgotten how much closer you are also slipping towards that edge.</p>
<p>Taking advantage of your new position, you brace yourself on your free arm and then shift your weight forward to rut against the back of the hand you have stuck between your bodies and-</p>
<p>O-<em>oh.</em></p>
<p>"E-evelyn..."</p>
<p>Her name tumbles past your lips like a warning and a plea rolled into one startled gasp.</p>
<p>Caught in the thrall of her own building pleasure as she is, it's a miracle Evelyn manages to hear you at all, but not only she does hear you, she also, somehow, summons enough coordination to sneak one of her hands up to your chest, to pinch and roll and squeeze one of your nipples, and the sensation, combined with the feeling of her teeth sinking mercilessly into your shoulder to stifle a scream, of her other hand's fingernails digging into the muscled flesh of your bottom as you grin and thrust into her, creates that dizzying combination of pain and pleasure that turns out to be your undoing.</p>
<p>And without slowing down the surprisingly steady thrusts of your hand and pairing it with a few, slightly off-centered yet miraculously effective swipes of your thumb on her clit, you push her down that abyss with you while grinding against your knuckles.</p>
<p>The only reason you don't hear her shouting your name as her whole body goes stiff and then slack, inner walls clenching tightly around you, spasming and convulsing as she  reaches her peak, is because of the deafening white noise that roars in your ears and echoes in your head as your own body seizes on itself for that seemingly, infinitely long breathless moment before the coil inside you snaps, flooding your senses with the overwhelming force of your release.</p>
<p>It's a freefall.</p>
<p>Even your Seeker senses sizzle and go into a most wonderful (albeit temporary) overload  with the harmless yet powerful pulses of uncharged mana escaping Evelyn's body in glowy blue tendrils due to the uncontainable intensity of her orgasm.</p>
<p>They float around and envelop you both. Lapping and crackling at your skin, and contributing in amplifying your shared pleasure.</p>
<p>With all of your senses held hostage in such a way, you are barely made aware of anything else other than the flames of pleasure licking at your most sensitive nerve endings.</p>
<p>But in the midst of it all, you still distantly register the hot jets of warmth pooling in your palm and splashing against your lower belly, dripping down your wrist and thighs with every thrust of your hand, it is only after you start your descent and some of your faculties come back to you that you realize the feeling is nothing other than Evelyn's own release pouring out of the same depths you are still buried into.</p>
<p>You groan at the sight you are met with when you glance downward, increasing the efforts of your cramping hand to draw it out till the last drop, grinding and shuddering against each other until there is nothing left but the threat of overstimulation prickling at your still-spasming muscles. Only then you force yourselves to stop on a mutual, unspoken accord.</p>
<p>Your vision is mostly a blur of color, but... you simply <em>can't</em> take your eyes away from the sight between your bodies.</p>
<p>Evelyn, panting and trembling and occasionally twitching with aftershock beneath you, has truly given you <em>everything</em> she had. </p>
<p>She's coated your lower belly and thighs, as well as soaked the sheets underneath, with her slick wetness.</p>
<p>And when you pull out - gently, slowly, soothing her protesting groan at the loss with a kiss - you notice that the tip of your fingers have pruned like they tend to do after taking a long, warm bath.</p>
<p><em>Sweet Andraste...</em> She really did <em>melt</em> under your fingers, didn't she?</p>
<p>When you glance up at her, Evelyn is already giving you this bright-eyed, utterly blissed smile and you can only kiss her again for it. Slow and long and deep, like you know she enjoys after lovemaking, hoping that, through the act, you'll be able to convey everything you are currently unable to voice.</p>
<p>If the way she hums contently in your mouth and melts beneath you like candlewax is anything to go by, then you succeed.</p>
<p>Slowly, even the gentle, quiet hum of magic that had curled around your bodies recedes, until it dissipates just as harmlessly as it came. And with it, so does the low buzz in the back of your head.</p>
<p>You don't come up for a proper sip of air from the kiss for entire minutes. But it is absolutely worth the dizziness and the tingly feeling lingering on your swollen lips when, eventually, you draw back.</p>
<p>Evelyn's eyes are a little less bright and glossy, starting to cloud over with drowsiness, but her expression, is still the one of a deeply satisfied woman.</p>
<p>A combination of pride and affection bursts in your chest, while a pleasant fuzz of arousal curls languidly in your core at the sight of her like this.</p>
<p>You glance down at the rest of her body that - aside from the aesthetically pleasing hint of lean muscle jutting ever-so-slightly on her stomach whenever she moves into certain positions (a trait that is more due to her general slenderness rather than the result of physical training) - is all soft skin and gracious curves, every single inch of which reflects the elegant femininity that she radiates with during every waking moment; a deceivingly delicate look that plays well in her favor when faced with enemies who see her as nothing more than a pretty-looking and well-dressed Lady twirling a staff. <br/>
A look that hides the fierce strength of every ounce of the confidence that she carries with her in every step, every gesture, every look, and in the mighty force of every spell that she casts in combat.</p>
<p>Your gaze trails lower, lingering between her legs, where - past the patch of trimmed, curly light-brown hair - she is flushed pink, tender and swollen by your passionate lovemaking. The delicate folds there and the top of her thighs covered in the slowly-drying clear layer of her own explosive release.</p>
<p>Your throat goes dry at the sight. Your tongue grows heavy in your mouth. And your fingers <em>twitch </em>with the reminder of how it has felt having her pulsing and clenching and spasming tightly around you.</p>
<p>"You... <em>ah</em>... you really like that," It's a poorly eloquent observation, but also a half-question at the same time, lined with a not-so-foreign sense of inadequacy that you don't know from where it comes from and that ambushes you as much as it surprises both you and Evelyn, who, of course, notices it in the awkward, embarrassed way you flinch in surprise and your look - consequently - flits away from where it had lingered - pensively - between her legs, and back up her body again, although avoiding her gaze.</p>
<p>"Hey..." She reaches up and cups your cheek, her touch carrying the same persuasive, firm tenderness of her voice, making it impossible for you not to look back at her and lean into the safe, caring cradle of her soft palm.</p>
<p>"I love <em>everything</em> you do to me."</p>
<p>You smile at the sincerity in her words. Melt at the affection held in her gaze. (And blush at the memories of some of your most... <em>heated</em> private encounters that the compliment and reassurance promptly elicits).</p>
<p>You close your eyes and breathe in the strange relief that the earnest statement brings. It quiets your mind and allows you to think more clearly, enough to realize from where that thought- that flare of insecurity first sprung out from.</p>
<p>"I just... I never had many lovers." <em>-Or ever experienced such a visceral sexual desire, to be honest-</em> "And as you know, no women before you."</p>
<p>Because, after all, <em>this</em> is still so very new to you. So bright and shiny, just like your blinding feelings for her.</p>
<p>In response, Evelyn chuckles. A gentle puff of air that lacks any judgment and brushes your lips with the warmest note of adoration.</p>
<p>"Oh, I know." She drapes herself over you in a possessive sort of cuddle. It anchors you without restraining. Centering you in the moment. "And I'm the luckiest lady in Thedas to have you <em>all</em> to myself."</p>
<p>You answer her self-satisfied smirk with a half-hearted eye-roll.</p>
<p>"But forgive me if I still don't believe a word about me being the first woman you have ever been with. I mean, your <em>hands</em>..."</p>
<p>She reaches for the one that has been inside her so very recently - still moist and warm with her essence - and makes that low, humming sound in the back of her throat that has your stomach clench on itself with a fresh wave of arousal when she plays with said fingers, bringing your hand up to her lips, and kissing each wrinkled tip before intertwining them with her own.</p>
<p>"...they just <em>know</em> things."</p>
<p>In order to regain some of your balance, you use the momentum of the compliment to fluster her in return. (It's only fair).</p>
<p>"And here I thought, after the other night, that it was my tongue that had your favor."</p>
<p>(Too bad Her Worship Evelyn Trevelyan doesn't know the meaning of bashful or flustered and has definitely <em>never </em>acted shy a day in her life).</p>
<p>She grins. Absolutely radiating with pride at the (unexpected) bluntness of your suggestion.</p>
<p>"What can I say," She shrugs with pretend justification, simply because she likes to play this little game too much to straight-out renounce. "It's the Nevarran accent."</p>
<p>You snort a laugh, and her grin, if possible, widens even more, sharpening her already striking features, and making the precious blue of her eyes sparkle all the brighter.</p>
<p>Maker... She is so <em>beautiful</em>.</p>
<p>There is nothing much you can do next except kiss her and submit to the swell of emotions blossoming within your chest as she wraps herself around you, hooking one leg over your waist, trailing her foot along the length of the back of your leg while she kisses you back, languid and deep, leaving you delightfully breathless and lightheaded.</p>
<p>If her eyes were shimmering with adoration before, by the time you part, they are brimming with a multitude of the most tender and fierce of sentiments.</p>
<p>It's a look that leaves you just as dizzy as the kiss itself, and says everything that doesn't even need to be voiced.</p>
<p>You are both more than content to settle back down comfortably onto the bed and submit to the drowsiness of the afterglow. Evelyn tucks her head onto the crook of your neck and traces casual patterns with her finger on your hipbone, sighing and purring in contentment, not so unlike an affectionate, sated kitten would do.</p>
<p>Under the soothing crackling of the fire in the hearth you listen as her breathing evens out against your collarbone within minutes, finding comfort in its steadiness while your mind replays the last hour of lovemaking, feeling the coil of arousal stir in your lower abdomen when you think back about how exquisitely she has responded when you have pressed inside of her so deeply.</p>
<p>The way her orgasm seemed to explode and pour out of her with jets of heat that splashed onto your hand and wrist and belly, dripping between both your set of legs and soaking the bed covers...</p>
<p>You bite your lip. Thinking about how <em>magnificent</em> it all felt. How gorgeous a view you had of her from such a position. How <em>incredible</em> she has felt around you. So warm and tight and velvety soft...</p>
<p>It... gives you an idea.</p>
<p>Something that you would have never considered before her.</p>
<p>But even back then, it's not like you had never heard of some... <em>devices...</em> used between partners for sexual pleasure.</p>
<p>And if there is anyone you feel safe and infinitely cared for while exploring the vastly uncharted territory of sexual gratification with, that's her: the usually very-composed and ever-elegant woman who knows absolutely <em>nothing</em> of vanity, but still wouldn't be caught dead without at least wearing some basic lines of light makeup, or with her hair in disarray (not even in the midst of battle), and who is also currently snoring softly and drooling (just a little - adorably so) on your chest.</p>
<p><em>Maker knows you want to try everything with her,</em> you think, gently brushing aside a lovely, silky strand of hair out of her even lovelier face.</p>
<p>Your touch lingers in a feather-light caress along the line of her jaw. Her eyelids flutter. The tip of her nose twitches. She cuddles closer to you with a happy, sleepy hum. And your heart soars.</p>
<p>
  <em>You want to love her in every way you can show her.</em>
</p>
<p>Provided, of course, that she is of the same mind...</p>
<p>
  <strong>. . .</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The more you ponder the idea, especially in the following days (when the burst of curiosity and confidence has abated) the more the concept leaves you flustered, with a growing concern that maybe Evelyn wouldn't find it as appealing as you do. <em>Maybe</em>, despite her adventurous nature, her penchant for sexual allusions, and fervid enthusiasm about sex in general, she simply is not into this sort of things.</p>
<p>Maybe she wouldn't enjoy it, or would find your own inexperience with one of such... devices too awkward, your touch too clumsy, or <em>maybe</em>-</p>
<p>
  <em>"Strong hands. Calloused fingers. Rough and tough. Hardened by steel but soft and steady and always gentle on her skin. She loves to feel them everywhere while the pressure inside her builds, boils, breaks, and bursts free."</em>
</p>
<p>The words pierce through your frantic, panicked thoughts like something in between a whisper in your ear and a voice echoing from somewhere in back of your head. So oddly soothing despite their dubious origin that you don't even startle, but for some equally inexplicable and absurd reason, the nature of the words also makes you blush.</p>
<p>
  <em>"Hours spent learning, loving, lavishing. Warm bodies intertwined in the furs. Limbs caging like a caring clasp. Hands charting, hips chasing, heat crackling, nails biting, kisses bruising, pleasure brewing. Moments cherished. Charged. Channeled. Sometimes chained. Curious but never changed- Don't be afraid. You are the constant that she loves. She would like to try it, too."</em>
</p>
<p>The... <em>thought</em>... rolls through you like a calm, gentle wave lapping warmly at your consciousness, reaching deep enough to soothe your troubled mind, cooling your flushed skin, and banishing whatever trace of shame or inadequacy (or fear) you felt.</p>
<p>The feeling catches you a bit off guard, but despite the surprise of its abrupt... appearance... it doesn't trigger any alarm in you.</p>
<p>There is a <em>whoosh</em> - more felt than heard - and a moment later, you can barely recall what had you so nervous and anxious in the first place. The remnants crumbling off your frame like a tree shaking off the last of its crisp autumn leaves with the aid of a gentle breeze.</p>
<p>Deprived of that crippling concern that had your nerves craving something strong and possibly alcoholic in order to settle, and armed by a new resoluteness, you blink out of the haze that had frozen you in place, lift your head a bit higher and turn around from the Herald's Rest, marching back up the courtyard's main stairs with a powerful surge of confidence and renewed purpose.</p>
<p>The images in your head flashing with such vivid details that are almost tangible.</p>
<p>You want to touch them. Taste them. Live them all <em>with her.</em><br/>
 <br/>
You want to love her in a hundred different ways and discover a thousand more.</p>
<p>That idea that has been rattling in your head for days now shines anew with no shame or sense of inadequacy to cast shadows over it or the curiosity that the possibility has sparked in you.</p>
<p>Although... willing as you are, propelled by that fresh, unexpected (and completely welcomed) gust of confidence, you might still need the help of <em>someone </em>to properly shape part of this fantasy into reality.</p>
<p>You sigh as you step inside the Keep. Resigning yourself to the inevitable when you enter the rotunda, take a turn, and begin the long ascent.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>. . .</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Leliana looks far too delighted for your liking.</p>
<p>(The many, <em>many</em> steps to reach the rookery top haven't given you as much time to prepare as you had hoped they would).</p>
<p>And if you hadn't known her for so long, worked alongside her for <em>years</em>, you would perhaps be a bit concerned by the mischievous curl of that smile; that half-smirk that suggests (were you anyone else) that she might be tucking your current request aside for future reference, or worse (were you an enemy) potential blackmail material.</p>
<p>Then you shake the ridiculously embarrassing thought away because you came to her knowing that (aside from having the means to... procure... the specific item you are looking for) Sister Nightingale surely doesn't judge. And most definitely <em>not</em> in matters such as these. If anything, she is clearly glowing and thrumming with excitement at the idea of... filling your <em>requisition</em>. Ugh.</p>
<p>Exibit that mildly disturbing smile on her lips: curled indeed with a delighted sort of mischief.</p>
<p>But the softness in her blue eyes also gives away an unexpected odd fondness as she regards you with what feels a lot like (absurdly enough) <em>approval</em>.</p>
<p>You wouldn't go as far as to say that she is "touched" by you making such request to her, even if one of the main reasons you did, was because you don't trust anyone else as much as her; someone your threats - coincidentally - don't work against. (And would be, quite honestly, just as unnecessary).</p>
<p>"It seems like the explorations in the field alongside our Lady Inquisitor are going well then, if you have come to make such a request for this specific, advanced sort of... <em>riding equipment</em>."</p>
<p>You groan.</p>
<p>(And blush such an awfully bright shade of pink that you wouldn't be surprised - were you to step in front of a mirror - to see your face glowing with the same corrupted intensity of a vein of red lyrium).</p>
<p>"Just..." You splutter and wave around with your hands, trying to regain some resemblance of composure and not give her any more ammunition than you have already given her. "Can you get it<em> or not?</em>"</p>
<p>It doesn't even come out as snappy as you meant, just a mumbled hiss laced with the same embarrassment that is slowly, but surely, scalding every inch of your body from the inside out.</p>
<p>She hums pensively, tapping one gloved finger against her lips. "You know, with the right rune, the "saddle" you requested might also provide other benefits in addition to its original purpose, and as you know, our arcanist - Dagna, is quite skilled with crafting and enchanting them."</p>
<p>And just like that, from glowing-red lyrium, you turn as pale as the snow lying on the Frostbacks.</p>
<p>Surely she isn't suggesting that <em>you</em> go in the Undercroft <em>and</em>-</p>
<p>A musical laugh tumbles past the Nightingale's lips before she can contain it (or maybe simply because she is unwilling to hold it back), providing you with the answer to your unspoken question. Apparently, the look on your face (combined with her own familiarity of your unique disposition) has been enough to tell the former bard and current, most dreaded Inquisition's Spymaster, everything she needed to know.</p>
<p>"I'll make the request to her on your behalf-"</p>
<p>You balk. Eyes widening the side of saucers and mouth dropping open to expel a sputtered protest that doesn't get the chance to properly stumble past your lips that she hastens to assure you.</p>
<p>"Don't worry, Cassandra. Of <em>course</em>, I won't tell her for whom it is."</p>
<p>
  <em>Oh thank the Maker and forever be blessed His mortal bride Andraste...</em>
</p>
<p>You exhale the rest of your anxiety and will your wildly pounding heart to slow down.</p>
<p>"But she'll get it done," Leliana continues, chirping joyfully, as if she hadn't just almost given you a heart attack. "And then you'll thank me thrice."</p>
<p>Having recovered enough from her playful (mean) ambush, you are already mumbling the first one of many, and are about to turn around to leave this awfully embarrassing conversation, ready to pretend it never happened, when Leliana stops you from leaving just yet by gently grasping your forearm.</p>
<p>You turn back, leaning in with a suspicious frown when she beckons you closer and whispers:</p>
<p>
  <em>"What size?"</em>
</p>
<p>You do a double take.</p>
<p>"Beg your pardon?"</p>
<p>Maybe you didn't catch that one right.</p>
<p>But Leliana doesn't repeat the puzzling question (and you are far too confused to ask for proper clarification). Instead, she takes a step back, crosses her arms over her chest, and regards you with a pensive tilt of her head and pursed lips while her sharp blue eyes take in your stature. Your <em>build</em>. Rather than lingering anywhere specific.</p>
<p>For some reason, that look, the attentive way she appraises you, has your inner temperature rise all over again.</p>
<p>You briefly wonder if this is how a boiled egg feels like.</p>
<p>"You look like an eight to me." She declares conclusively with a firm, satisfied nod.</p>
<p>"<em>An eight?</em>" You repeat, blinking stupidly, now more confused than ever.</p>
<p>She just winks. And the slow, wide smile that spreads across her lips may as well be sharper than one of her daggers. (And just as dangerous, you suspect).</p>
<p>Slowly, you back away. Simultaneously impressed that your former fellow Hand has managed to intimidate <em>you</em>, of all people, (<em>with a smile</em>, no less), and also embarrassed beyond measure for allowing her to succeed so easily.</p>
<p>"It's all right," She waves dismissively, returning her attention to the neat pile of reports on her desk and picking up a scroll to study it. "I'll work out all the details and don't worry," She glances up at you from her read. "I can already assure you that our Lady Inquisitor is going to be very satisfied with her new-" And there it is that blighted <em>smirk</em> again. "... <em>riding gear.</em>"</p>
<p>You groan and turn on your heel, ready to throw yourself off the balcony.</p>
<p>Perhaps you'll be lucky and slam face-first on a pile of fresh snow to cool down the blush that seems to have taken permanent residence on your face.</p>
<p>Leliana's chuckle follows you for every step on your slow descent of the tower until you reach the library below. Even then though, you can still hear its echo in your head. But the sound, albeit amused, is warm and friendly - almost fondly so. And definitely lacking any note of judgment. And you know that despite the burning embarrassment you will suffer for some time just being in her presence, you have made the right choice coming to her for help.</p>
<p>...Maker you <em>hope</em> so.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Trust Cole to just pop up and soothe your doubts whenever you are having a little sex-related freak-out about wanting to try strapping up for your lover, but feeling insecure about how said lover might react to the proposition. You just gotta love Compassion. (As well as the merciless tease that is Sister Nightingale).</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Special delivery!</p><p>I'm back with the second part, and it's... quite long.</p><p>And explicit. Ahem.</p><p>I'm aware that the Dragon Age fandom is basically hibernating right now, but it's good to see that there are still a few of us lurking around.</p><p>Blessings upon the two souls who thought that this little story of mine deserved a comment and took a moment of their time to leave one. I don't write for comments or kudos, but it's always nice to know that my story is being liked and shown appreciation for. So thank you, truly. A little gesture such as yours actually means a lot to me :)</p><p>Now, with that being said, let the smut fest commence.</p><p>Enjoy</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The box appears, discreetly - as it always is with all of Leliana's work - in the lodgings above the smithy a few days after your return from a three weeks-long journey to the Emerald Graves.</p><p>The timing, given the celebrations going on around the Keep, isn't the best. But you definitely aren't going to complain about it. If anything, you are using the revelries to your advantage.</p><p>You find it there; tucked safely under the bed, and, more specifically, under the floorboard that also hides-<em>safeguards</em>- your pristine collection of (smutty) books.</p><p>You wonder if Sister Nightingale made the delivery herself or if she had one of her errand-running Inquisition's agents do it.</p><p>You don't know which would be worse. You can only hope that if the case were the latter, they didn't know<em> what</em> they were delivering, specifically.</p><p>All in all, it doesn't matter. You trust Leliana, and trust in her discretion and the one that she demands in all of her agents.</p><p>The thought gives you comfort, and with it, the courage to set the box on the bed and - after one more glance at the locked door - crack the wooden lid open.</p><p>Laying upon a square of the same red velvet lining the inside of the box, elegantly concealing its content, is a note.</p><p>
  <em>To my dear friend,</em>
</p><p>It says.</p><p>
  <em>Enjoy</em>
</p><p>It's exceptionally vague. And, of course, it lacks a signature. But that single word, that simple wish... seem to radiate a light Orlesian's accented amusement you have grown quite familiar with. Just like you have with the loopy... <em>thingy...</em> that she does at the bottom of the J and Y letters when she isn't concerned about having to conceal her penmanship.</p><p>You shake your head and set the note aside with a smile before returning your attention to the box itself.</p><p>For some inexplicable reason, your hands shake and feel clammy with sweat, and to steady them, you actually have to pause and take a breath to get a hold of your thrumming nerves before <em>finally</em>-</p><p>Oh.</p><p>You blink.</p><p>
  <em>O-Oh.</em>
</p><p>You don't know what you expected to see, exactly, once lifted that last, discreet barrier.</p><p>Probably something crude, lewd and vulgar. Which would have been <em>precisely</em> what you were fearing.</p><p>Definitely <em>not</em> the exceptionally realistic, masterfully crafted item you find hiding under that layer.</p><p>"Oh." You repeat, this time out loud.</p><p>As you reach inside the box to pull the item out, dislodging it from its nest carved in red velvet, the many straps attached to it unravel and dangle from the various buckles.</p><p>Once freed, untangled, and cradled in your hands, you find yourself examining it with quite a bit of awe. From the flawless smoothness of the leather drawn taut - without forming a singular crease - over the hard, wooden rod-core that makes the structure of the shaft, to the shape of it and all its details.</p><p>It's long and thick. A generous girth and length. Sizable. But not in a ridiculous way that would make its purpose impossible. Just... needing some... preparations... beforehand, perhaps.</p><p>It's also exceptionally realistic, making it quite authentic-looking. From the wider base all the way up to the flared tip.</p><p>The straps are also of excellent quality, the buckles catch the sunlight streaming through the window and glint with the shimmer of new, polished silver.</p><p>It's all unexpectedly elegant and tasteful.</p><p>A true masterpiece.</p><p>As you turn it in your hands with a flare of interest and curiosity, you notice the rune that Leliana mentioned; installed at the base. It's differently shaped and much smaller than the ones encased in weapons. The glyph etched on it is... vaguely familiar, though. But the position of its location leaves absolutely no doubts regarding which delicate, most sensitive part of your body will be pressed right up against.</p><p>You swallow. Cheeks burning with the same heat pooling in your belly.</p><p>For the moment, the rune is dark. Inactive. A simple charge of magic, however - as Leliana briefly explained to you after you recovered enough from your awkward conversation in the rookery to ask for more details - will activate it and with it, all of the... mysterious, mutual benefits for which it has been crafted.</p><p>"Remarkable." You hear yourself mumble, startling at the sound of your own voice, clearing your throat and looking around, blushing inexplicably, as if you weren't standing in your own room, alone, behind its safely locked door.</p><p>Shaking your head in self-reprimand at the absurdity of your own reaction, you set the - magical item? sexual toy? enchanted recreational device? - <em>device</em> aside, and reach for the little vial nestled in a specifically-shaped slot in the velvet-lined box.</p><p>From the way it sloshes languidly inside it seems quite viscous; some kind of lubricant perhaps.</p><p>It's enough to feel your cheeks and neck and even <em>ears</em> flare up with an even hotter rush of heat.</p><p>
  <em>Dear Maker...</em>
</p><p>Leliana has really thought of <em>everything</em>, hasn't she?</p><p>As thorough as always. No matter the importance of the task assigned to her.</p><p>You'll have to think of a way to properly thank her for the trouble.</p><p>
  <em>Maybe you can still find some of that wine that she enjoyed drinking with Justinia...</em>
</p><p>You wonder if that will please her and remind her of some of her most cherished moments spent in the company of your beloved mentor and friend... or if the reminder will elicit a more melancholic reaction bound to inevitable sadness that would scrape raw the still-fresh wounds caused by guilt and regret.</p><p>You'll have to think on it.</p><p>And that will have to wait.</p><p>Right now you are definitely not in the proper state of mind to consider such options, and also, you have <em>other</em> priorities.</p><p>Because you have been waiting for weeks for this... requisition, and now that it has been filled, you have no intention to waste a minute longer to surprise your lover.</p><p>Despite your eagerness though, stripping off the ceremonial armor that you have been bullied into wearing for the latest celebration of your return in Skyhold, takes twice as much time as usual because of your shaky hands- a peculiarity that you only manage to get under control by repeating to yourself how utterly <em>ridiculous</em> it is for a Seeker of Truth- a seasoned, fearless warrior- for <em>you</em> to get so nervous.</p><p>It's embarrassing, to say the least, having to fold back into your basic training in order to get a hold of yourself. But a few, deep, steadying breaths ease your mind, which, consequentially, ease your tense muscles and twitchy nerves, allowing you to finish undress without further delays caused by some other oddity in your behavior.</p><p>Despite being new, the straps and stitches of the device are soft and gentle on your bare skin, they don't sting or chafe anywere, and the buckles are also remarkably easy to fasten. </p><p>You put it on with the same practicality of your favored, old armor.</p><p>Miraculously, it's done in a matter of minutes without incidents, and with one final check to the straps snugly cradling your glutes, you secure the buckles and test the firmness and stability of the whole... equipment, finding it exceptionally satisfying and just as comfortable.</p><p>The rune is cool where it presses right between the folds of your heated sex, but the localized change of temperature paired with the stimulation is... an unexpectedly pleasurable contrast.</p><p>Once you have made sure that everything is in order, you deliberately ignore the rusted mirror sitting on the table at the corner (least some of that absurd self-consciousness resurfaces at the sight you would be met with) and step right back into a more comfortable pair of breaches without a second thought.</p><p>Fastening the laces at the front is a slightly more challenging work, but not impossible. As a result, the shaft presses up against your lower belly, doubling the excitement that is making your heart thrum in your chest with anticipation and your hands shake anew with nervousness when you reach for your Seeker tabard.</p><p>You could go without, but with the burst of people currently infesting Skyhold the last thing you want is to get intercepted on your way to the Keep by some dignitary. Mother Giselle. Or worse. <em>Varric.</em></p><p>Because while in the first two cases no one would probably notice, the latter - thanks to his heigth - would find himself almost eye level with something obviously amiss. Or rather,<em> extra</em>, in this particular case.</p><p>Ugh.</p><p>And he is <em>not</em> the type to not notice things.</p><p>May Andraste have mercy on your mortified soul if he does.</p><p>You'll have to just... breeze past him in case you were to see him.</p><p>Luckily, by the time you make it out of the smithy, up the courtyard stairs and into the Keep, the main hall is still so filled up with the guests called to celebrate the Inquisition's latest accomplishment in the Emerald Graves or some other thing - (honestly, Josephine might be the only one who can keep up) - that your presence goes mostly unnoticed, and for those new arrivals who do notice you, merely smile politely or nod with a slight bow of acknowledgement.</p><p>You return the greetings shortly without lingering. Scanning the crowd of the main hall for the one person you are looking for.</p><p>A first, quick, yet attentive sweep confirms what you suspected.</p><p>Evelyn is nowhere to be seen.</p><p>Which means that she <em>might</em> have managed to shake off the rest of the praises from the guests that have been clinging to her side as tightly as they have hung to every word she said - and possibly sneaked up in her quarters (just as you had hoped the case would be), searching for some peace and quiet in the middle of yet another utterly frivolous celebration thrown in order to keep up morale and (mostly) show off to the nobles out of necessity, before the main event and banquet taking place tonight.</p><p><em>And maybe</em>... an occasion to unwind too, you think, willing your excitedly pounding heart to slow down, while also resisting the overwhelming urge to adjust the bulge straining against the front of your breeches. Walking with that... thing standing to attention between your legs is most awkward and uncomfortable.</p><p>You simply endure the walk down the main hall - dodging pretentious nobles left and right - and up the stairs because you have to.</p><p>But the mild discomfort is repaid in full and with sizable interests when you finally reach your destination, and after one last flight of stairs, you finally find the woman who hunts your every thought and never fails to make your heart trip over itself with emotions - standing by the dresser.</p><p>For the occasion, she has let Josephine charm her into a dress, after a fashion advice that (no doubt) came from Leliana herself.</p><p>The result?</p><p>She is nothing short of a vision in the most exquisite contrast of darkened samite and shimmering ring velvet.</p><p>Of course, you have seen her earlier, before you decided you had enough of answering the same questions from guests about your latest adventures - or dragons - over and over, and took your leave as soon as the first opportunity arose.</p><p>But now...</p><p>Now that you see her unshackled by that rigidity warranted by posturing for pompous dignitaries wishing to bask in her glory - or those young nobles delusional enough to think they could charm her in spending some of her precious time in <em>their</em> company, privately, for other, more <em>personal</em> reasons - and looking so unguarded, more relaxed and authentic in the safeness of her private chambers...</p><p>Your heart - expectedly so - promptly stumbles clumsily over a beat at the sight, and your core clenches with a surge of arousal. Leaving you torn between wanting to stride over, tear the layers and layers of expensive silks and velvet off her, and wanting to take her <em>just like this</em>.</p><p>A bit impractical, perhaps, and definitely <em>not</em> how you planned to surprise her with your latest... purchase. But she just looks <em>so...</em></p><p>Beautiful doesn't suffice.</p><p>It's so inadequate a word in such context that it's almost an insult for its insipidity.</p><p>Stunning is somewhere closer, but far too common and still not enough to encompass the wholeness of the splendor that  she exudes.</p><p>She is the embodiment of elegance, without looking delicate or fragile, radiating that very same confidence that makes anyone perceive her as even more powerful than she already is. As a woman greater than herself.</p><p>Your breath catches in your throat at the sight.</p><p>"Blessed Andraste... you are a vision." It's the awed comment that trips out of your mouth while the rest of your body remains far too stunned to move.</p><p>Evelyn, on her part - who was turned on her side and in the middle of freeing her hair from all the pins strategically holding it into a slightly more styled version of its usual, practical bun - spins around with a start, but when she sees that it's only you standing frozen there at the top of the stairs, the tension that had stiffened her slender frame (and had her reflexively grip more tightly one of the hairpins) leaves her with the next exhale, just like the brief look of alarm that had crossed her features melts into a slow smile.</p><p>It's just a slow curl of her lips at first, but it quickly blossoms into one of those delighted smirks you have grown inevitably so terribly fond of.</p><p>"Well, hello there, <em>flatterer</em>." Her entire face, which but a moment ago showed just how tired she was after half-a-day spent keeping up appearances by posturing and pretending - lights up upon seeing you. And you still can't believe how lucky you are to find yourself at the other end of such a look. Of being the reason behind that mix of joy, relief and pure, burning adoration shimmering in the precious deep blue of her eyes.</p><p>"I was wondering were you went off to." She says and, without diverting her gaze from you, and with just another pull of her fingers, the last hairpin gets removed.</p><p>With nothing to hold it up, her hair tumbles free in a mass of naturally curly waves that cascade over her shoulders and down her back like a curtain, catching the light streaming through the windows and making it shine in all its silken glory.</p><p>Your insides clench on themselves, your fingers twitch and<em> itch</em> with the need to run them through those silky-soft, golden-caramel strands, and a groan slips past your lips at the thought. Which, of course, doesn't go unheard.</p><p>She looks insufferably pleased, almost<em> smug</em>, by your reaction.</p><p>And for some inexplicable reason, the hidden tightness in your pants seems to grow ten times more uncomfortable.</p><p>"A bit tongue-tied, are you?"</p><p><em>Most definitely,</em> you think, gulping. "I am <em>not</em>." Your stubborness however - or whatever it is that urges you to defy her attentive observation - answers instead with a low, dry, utterly pathetic, and most unconvincing rasp.</p><p>Not that your efforts to look unaffected make any difference in the end.</p><p>If possible, actually, her grin widens in front of your visible inner struggle.</p><p>"My, my... Aren't you a bundle of nerves," She accuses teasingly, yet there is that same something soft and caring in her eyes as she sets aside her handful of hairpins, steps away from the dresser, and crosses the room in a soft rustle of fabric to get closer to you with slow, deliberate strides and a seductive, confident sway of her hips; not so unlike a predator circling a cornered, tasty prey would do, you realize. And when the tip of her tongue darts out to lick at her lips, such analogy gains an additional shade of vivid colour, taking inspiration from the velvet-shimmer quality of her dress and painting her like an exotic, majestic, deadly panther in your mind. Except, she doesn't pounce like the wild feline would undoubtedly do.</p><p>Instead, surprisingly, her expression goes impossibly soft and the prickling edges of her teasing tone smooths over with understanding when she speaks again and says,</p><p>"I know how events such as these can needle at your patience, my love, but I believe we have a few hours of relative peace before we are due to get back, and in the meantime, we could simply-"</p><p>It's the closeness that eventually snaps you back into yourself. Or rather the scent of her, paired with the term of endearment. </p><p>The combination is like a jolt of electricity lighting up all of your senses at once. Overloading you with input as soon as she gets within reach, the resulting throb of arousal at the apex of your thighs promptly reminding you of<em> what</em> you came here to do.</p><p>Your body moves of its own accord; a puppet whose strings are commanded by your desire. With barely any conscious thought, more like muscle-memory really, your arms encircle her waist and pull her against your front. Your mouth covering hers and muffling the tiny, gasped yelp of surprise that slips out at the unexpected force of the impact. But her confusion is short-lived.</p><p>She kisses you back as soon as she recovers from the surprise, and whatever tension had been lingering in your body goes instantly slack, melting into the liquid heat that starts simmering low in your belly.</p><p>She slips a hand on the back of your neck and you "allow her" to tilt your head to the side for her to deepen the kiss. </p><p>For all your rough exterior and reputation you feel like you need to uphold, you absolutely <em>love it</em> when she takes charge like this. And she has a tendency to do so more often than not.</p><p>She tastes of rich Antivan port. Of those sweet, juicy berries dipped in chocolate and sprinkled with flaked almonds that have made attending this afternoon's whole (mandatory) pre-celebration refreshments that much more bearable, and of that unique flavor that is simply hers - which happens to be the most intoxicating and distinctive one in the mix.</p><p>Your knees buckle.</p><p>And they almost give out completely from under your weight when she nips at your bottom lip, soothing it with a flick of her tongue afterwards, teasing you mercilessly until you gather enough of your control back to properly take charge - just like you suspect she wanted all along.</p><p>Taking a firm hold of her, you step away from the stairs and back her against the closed window leading to the balcony, miraculously without knocking over the floor candelabra standing nearby in your enthusiasm.</p><p>She moans in your mouth at the (ever-considerate) display of roughness, panting against your lips when you lift her leg from under the layers and layers and <em>layers</em> of skirts, hook it around your waist, and fit yourself between her thighs.</p><p>With a deliberate rolling motion you <em>grind</em> into her and-</p><p>"A-Ahh..."</p><p>And that is when she feels <em>it</em>.</p><p>"Seeker Pentaghast," She gasps, drawing back, startled, panting, her eyes wide and dark, but also sparkling with something bright and delighted that you also catch behind that equally excited note of playfulness that she weaves in her voice when she asks, voice low and sultry, "Are you hiding a dagger in your trousers or are you simply so very, <em>very</em> happy and relieved to finally see me privately, that something has sprouted in your knickers during this afternoon's dreadfully long and boring party?"</p><p>The pun is so terribly close to the truth that you almost burst into a most inelegant snort but, surprisingly, <em>thankfully</em>, in order to maintain the tone you had decided to set for this particular encounter, you manage to hold back the amusement and do a creditable job of acting nonchalant, allowing your voice to dip lower than usual at the following suggestion. "Maybe you should find out for yourself."</p><p>"Mmm," She purrs in approval. A low, rumbling sound that tingles the hair on the back of your neck and shoots all the way down your spine to pool in your belly. Paired with the dark, hungry look in her eyes, it's enough to make you quiver from the inside out.</p><p>"That's the best invitation I've gotten all day," She announces. "And that <em>includes</em> the one I have received just half an hour ago from this Lord-Of-Who-Remembers, who offered me to reside in his seaside estate in Rivain for an indefinitely long summer vacation. I almost said yes right on the spot just because I'm in <em>desperate</em> need of a bit of a tan." She comments, briefly glancing down at her arm, left bare by her sleeveless dress, were the exquisite tan earned from your adventures in the West is visibly starting to fade, and this time you do snort. But when Evelyn sneaks a hand down your bottom and rolls her hips forward to press harder against you, the sound quickly turns into a low, guttural growl as the base of the shaft tucked in your pants puts pressure on an extremely sensitive spot.</p><p>"Sweet Maker... E-Evelyn..." You stutter, head dropping forward to rest on her shoulder.</p><p>"You can save your prayers for later, Seeker. But I wouldn't bother." She whispers hotly in your ear, nipping at the lobe before wickedly tracing the shell with the tip of her tongue, reducing you to a shivering mess. "Because I have no intention to be merciful with you."</p><p>As it often happens (aside from your very first few times where she took her time to properly discover and get familiar with every single inch of your body) her impatience (or maybe you should call it "enthusiasm" given the way she physically thrums with excitement) wins out.</p><p>Without preamble or teasing, guided by a blinding purpose, she redirects her hand from your rear and between your bodies, pressing it firmly against your crotch.</p><p>The breathy moan that tumbles past her lips as she palms the outline of the new appendage that she finds there is positively obscene. And the way she shivers with want in your arms at the implications is just as intoxicating. But there is no comparison to what you feel when you lift your head just in time to see her eyes flutter open and find those pools of blue replaced by an impenetrable, glimmering darkness of desire.</p><p>"How did you get this?" She husks, licking her lower lip and looking about ready to devour you, one inch at the time.</p><p>That look alone makes how - <em>precisely</em> - you obtained such a refined... item... all worth ten times over.</p><p><em>Including</em> Leliana's teasing.<br/> <br/><em>And</em> the most recent, most awkward march through nobles and aristocrats in the main hall to get here.</p><p>"You want me to tell you?" You ask her, innocently enough, before reaching around with one arm and grabbing her firmly, almost forcefully around her hip and bringing your bodies impossibly closer, enough to make her gasp in surprise (and visible delight) at the unexpected (and totally welcomed) roughness of the gesture. "Or you want me to <em>fuck you</em> with it?"</p><p>You have never been one to curse or swear often.</p><p>And you would <em>never</em> refer in such a vulgar, tasteless manner to how you make love to her.</p><p>But right now, not only do you use the crude language in a need to regain some scrap of the dominance you wanted to embody for this specific encounter, but it also describes <em>exactly</em> what are your intentions with her, what you have been fantasizing to do to her <em>for weeks</em>, ever since you realized how much she truly enjoys penetration, ever since your mind wandered to how you could further explore this preference of hers, and the mutual enjoyment you could derive by using the proper device.</p><p>"H-here," She requests, hands already fumbling frenetically with your clothes. "Take me right here, Cassandra."</p><p>You almost give in to that desperate, breathless plea.</p><p>There isn't a more lewd, primal, and spontaneous position you would like to try than right against a wall after having sneaked out of a pompous party full of self-important nobles.</p><p>It would be, quite honestly, one of <em>your</em> sexual fantasies come to life.</p><p>Just the image conjured in your head - of you holding her up, hands curled under her smooth, softly toned thighs, and her ankles locked on the small of your back, holding you close, urging you deeper, her moans in your ear, her nails scratching mercilessly at your back...</p><p>
  <em>Maker...</em>
</p><p>But unfortunately, with your shoulder still tender due to your latest injury, and with your knees buckling as they do because of that exciting trepidation swirling inside you, you would most definitely <em>die</em> of embarrassment were you to drop her and injure yourselves during intercourse.</p><p>So the bed is the safest (not to mention more comfortable) choice. The fact that it may not be the most spontaneous and inventive of surfaces, doesn't mean that you, as lovers, <em>aren't</em>.</p><p>Evelyn alone has quite a wicked imagination of her own.</p><p>Not to mention a surprising flexibility to go along with some of those delicious ideas of hers. While you have the physical strength to endure even the most challenging of positions that require a firm, stable support for a moderate length of time.</p><p>And so you hoist her up - ignoring the light twinge of discomfort on your shoulder - melting a little at the delightful, squealy moan that she makes in your mouth at the casual display of strength, and carry her bodily to the bed.</p><p>But while you are much more careful in dropping her once you get there, she isn't in pulling you on top of her as soon as you set her on the covers. She yanks you down with her by grasping the collar of the leather doublet peaking from beneath your tabard with both hands and <em>pulling</em>, claiming your mouth in a deep, bruising kiss. The heat and passion poured into it - which you return just as generously and enthusiastically - makes you glad that you aren't standing anymore, or you would be seriously concerned about having to hold yourself up and not sway under the threat of dizziness.</p><p>The voluminous skirts, for how pretty and elegant the dress looks on her, are incredibly frustrating to get through. Undressing her is how you imagine must be like wading through yards of fabric. And in your mutual haste to get rid of the far-too-many layers by fumbling with the just-as-many laces, there might be a slight tearing sound.</p><p>It shreds the rustling silence. And you both freeze.</p><p>"Ugh." Evelyn groans. "Josephine is <em>never</em> going to forgive me if I ripped it." She may protest, but she doesn't pause to check and assess the damage, nor does she looks one bit guilty about possibly having ruined the marvelous dress beyond repair.</p><p>"If anyone understands being overcome by passion," You tell her, dropping the last, hopefully-still-intact layer of skirts on the floor before repositioning yourself between your lover's now bare, endlessly long legs, "that would be an Antivan."</p><p>That assessment is enough to make her laugh.</p><p>She is still wearing the corset, but you are not so opposed by the sight of it like you were by the rest of the dress. As a matter of fact, seeing her bosom straining like that, seeing the flush on her collarbones as she throws her head back in laughter... is a most exquisite sight.</p><p>Your mouth goes dry.</p><p>And then it starts watering all of a sudden at the thought of sealing your lips around her nipples and sucking and feeling her buckling underneath you, one hand on the back of your head, fingers scratching your scalp as she holds you close to her chest...</p><p>In the end, you get rid of it with as much patience as you did the dress, this time though, you manage to keep the article of clothing intact. (It looks far too lovely and alluring on her to be permanently damaged).</p><p>Thankfully, your own clothes don't require the same attention, having already changed out of your (far more frustratingly complex) ceremonial armor and into a far more comfortable attire anticipating the amount of time you would have spent in it based on your intentions when you left your quarters, and Evelyn's nimble hands work knowingly and easily on the few buckles and laces, and before you know it, you are both laying down onto the bed naked. Well... <em>mostly.</em></p><p>"You are off to a rather confident start, Seeker." She comments, pleasantly surprised and intrigued by this bold side of you. "You sure you can keep it up?"</p><p>"I might need some... guidance," You confess without hesitation, because there is no shame in admitting it, you have learned. You take advantage of the brief pause to draw in a cooling breath for your starving lungs, hoping that the confession won't dampen the excitement that you have managed to stir in her with your recent show of confidence.</p><p>If the gorgeous smile that spreads on her face is of any indication though, then it doesn't.</p><p>"I'd be delighted to." She hums, and then urges you back, gently, and kisses you so sweetly and thoroughly and with so much sentiment that your head spins.</p><p>The sense of vertigo is so strong that for a moment it actually, <em>truly</em> feels like the world tips upside down from its axis. Only realizing that that's<em> precisely</em> what's happened when you blink your eyes open and, after a moment of confusing adjustment, you find Evelyn grinning down at you from where she's straddling your waist.</p><p><em>The sneak</em>.</p><p>You should have suspected that she was going to take advantage of your distraction to roll over and invert your position.</p><p>You glare up at her.</p><p>But just when you expect her grin to widen impossibly, the satisfied smirk on her lips softens unexpectedly into a most gentle and utterly loving smile.</p><p>"Is this all right, love?" She asks, a note of uncertainty weaving in the question and getting reflected in the way she nibbles at her lower lip, and the consideration of it has your heart soar to the Heavens.</p><p>As playful as she tends to be, she would <em>never</em> do anything you might feel even just a bit uncomfortable doing, or show even the most minimal signs of uncertainty about.</p><p>The swell of affection in your chest grows impossibly tight, and for a moment you are back to being unable to believe that she has chosen <em>you</em>, fallen in love <em>with you</em>, never gave up on her affection for you not even when it hurt, not even after you broke her heart in a hopeless, selfish wish that your still-bleeding one would remain intact in the long run. <br/>How foolish.</p><p>And now, even when <em>you</em> are the one who has taken the initiative, curious about wanting to explore <em>more</em>, decided to surprise her, strapped up and ready to plunge into the unknown, Evelyn is <em>still</em> the one who wants to make sure you are absolutely certain about this.</p><p>And she only proves how strongly she feels about your consent when you only manage to nod in response.</p><p>"I need you to say it, love." She requests, kindly, patiently. That loving smile still there. Eyes soft and caring, yet behind that tenderness of oceanic blue, they blaze like the flames of the very same fire licking hotly at your insides.</p><p>Three little words bloom in your chest. Burn in your lungs. Itch in your throat.</p><p>But there is only one echoing through every nerve ending of your body and pulsing insistently with slick heat between your thighs at her request.</p><p>Yes. </p><p><em>Yes, yes, yes.</em> A thousand times over. Your mind chants enthusiastically.</p><p>Your lips, however, can only part mutely. Like a fish gasping for air.</p><p>But that's not all <em>your</em> fault.</p><p>The feeling of her bare thighs under your hands, of her warm, velvety-soft skin under your calloused palms, and the view of her on top of you like<em> this</em>, completely naked, all soft curves and long, toned limbs, is... <em>extremely</em> distracting. Eventually though, you manage to gather a couple of brain cells and stroke them together until the bright spark resulting from the effort has you finally utter the answer with one of those firm, definitive "yes" that has been rattling in your head and held hostage in your throat.</p><p>"Please..." You also add for good measure.</p><p>And while your voice may come out like a miserable raspy croak (from suffocating fish to dying frog is <em>still</em> an improvement, you believe), that's all that is necessary for Evelyn's soft smile to blossom into a less innocent, and far more excited, devious little grin.</p><p>She eases you into it, melting the rest of your strung-up nerves in the best way she knows how. By kissing you until you grow dizzy with the feeling of her everywhere, and then voracious with the need for more.</p><p>Your hands roam slowly over every inch of bare skin you encounter while Evelyn takes full advantage of her current position to grind her center along the underside of the shaft strapped firmly to your waist, coating it in her slick essence.</p><p>The motion and the series of gradually increasing moans slipping from her lips, stir you from the haze of lust descending upon your senses.</p><p>One of her hands dips lower between your legs and grasp at the thick, leather-wrapped rod with firmness before positioning it against her entrance with purpose.</p><p>And that's the feeling- the stillness preceding the inevitable, what finally manages to properly snap you out from your stupor with a bolt of worry. Because she is eager to get you inside, but you haven't done much of anything to actually prepare her for it.</p><p>Instead of telling her to wait, you still her eagerness with a firm hand on her waist, preventing her from sinking in and risk hurting herself.</p><p>She makes a protesting sound in the back of her throat at the interruption, something in between a whine and a low, rumbling growl, and you can't help but smirk a little at such an endearing, rare display of impatience coming from her.</p><p><em>Apparently it's not so easy for the Inquisitor having to obey orders, is it?</em> You marvel in delight, although, dreading her retaliation were you to say the words out loud, you wisely decide to keep the jab to yourself. Besides, impatient as she might be, she <em>has</em> obediently stilled her movement at the firmness of your touch.</p><p>Such obedience isn't going to last long though, you can feel it in the way she's positively <em>buzzing</em> with the pent up energy of her arousal - and so, before her patience can wear thinner, you sneak your other hand between her legs and-</p><p>"Maker's breath..." You gasp. "<em>Evelyn</em>..."</p><p>She is <em>soaked</em>.</p><p>"Worried I wasn't ready to take it?" She asks, as if recognizing your previous concern for what it was (aside from totally unnecessary, apparently, given the way she is<em> leaking</em> in your palm). Her clit swollen hard and throbbing under your fingertips, and instead of being mildly embarrassed by the level of her arousal like you would no doubt be if the situation were reversed, she radiates smug about it all.</p><p>You can only growl in response.</p><p>Not the most eloquent answer you have ever given her, but surely the reason why she chuckles and bends to kiss you tenderly on the corner of your mouth.</p><p>"Worry not, my brave, faithful Seeker," She intones, the words - usually laced with an undercurrent of warm amusement - are now low and sultry and <em>liquid</em> enough to seep into your very bone marrow. "I'm about ready to <em>devour you</em>."</p><p>You shiver and, to your utter mortification, whimper pitifully at all the promises held in that tone.</p><p>Your fingers, armed with fierce purpose and determination not even a minute ago - now feel clumsy and awkward, reduced to a shaky twitch just like the rest of your body.</p><p>In response, Evelyn chuckles fondly. "I love it when you get like this."</p><p>
  <em>An incoherent, groaning, stammering, rippling puddle of molted arousal?</em>
</p><p>"I love that <em>I</em> can get you like this." She specifies as if reading your very own thoughts, and... Well...</p><p>That definitely changes the perspective of things.</p><p>She does.</p><p>No one else has ever held such power above you before her.</p><p>For how much you loved Regalyan, you never quite experienced this sizzling need, this burning desire thundering through your veins.</p><p>It's most unsettling.</p><p>And equally intoxicating.</p><p>An adoring smile curls on Evelyn's rosy, kiss-swollen lips.</p><p>"Lean back for me, love?"</p><p>It's a patient request. Not even remotely close to a command. But there is nothing else that you can do (especially given the way your body is responding to her, but submit to it as if it were an order).</p><p>And so, with not as much reluctance as you expected to feel, you lay down comfortably onto the bed, head slightly propped up by the pillows, and just... watch.</p><p>You watch the pleased quirk of a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth, right before your gaze gets snatched away to the movement happening between your bodies as she grasps the length of the device, brings it between her delicate, soft, pink folds, resting the flared tip against her opening and then-</p><p>
  <em>Oh dear, sweet, merciful Andraste...</em>
</p><p>You don't even have time to brace yourself for it.</p><p>Because right <em>then</em> - without preamble, yet slowly and carefully, as if following your own wordless advice from a few minutes ago meant to restrain her eagerness - she <em>sinks</em> down into it.</p><p>The widest part of the tip catches for a moment. </p><p>Instinctively, your hand, possessed by a will of its own, reaches out to help her adjust the angle. Then your mind catches up, and you think about the vial of oil resting in the pocket of your breeches lying on the floor, but the slick heat between her legs is more than enough to ease passage, and this time, with the aid of some patience, the rest of the tip sinks inside. A couple of inches follow suits. Until the rest of the shaft slides all the way into her with one more smooth roll of her hips.</p><p>The view is obscenely intimate.</p><p>In the most exquisite, mouth-watering way.</p><p>And the moan that tumbles past her lips is just as delicious. The reminder of it will surely be enough to flush your face with heat and elicit a responding throb in your lower belly for the months to come.</p><p>At the moment, however, it draws your gaze back up on her face. And...</p><p>Dear Maker...</p><p>...If utter bliss could have a face.</p><p>Still, part of you catches those little signs in her expression that could be the result of some light discomfort, and the consequent concern leaves you compelled to ask if, "Are you all right?"</p><p>She gives a first, tentative roll of her hips and promptly bites her lip to stifle a moan at the pleasurable fullness stretching her open. </p><p>"Y-yes..." She answers eventually. </p><p>"I... I just need a moment." She assures, and when she glances down at you, she looks uncharacteristically sheepish.  "It's..."</p><p>You gulp.</p><p><em>"been a while"</em> Your mind finishes for her.</p><p>Wrongly so.</p><p>"...bigger than I realized." She confesses.</p><p>
  <em>Oh.</em>
</p><p>Your face may flare up with a fresh wave of heat, but you can't prevent your lips from stretching into a smirk at the rare opportunity to tease her a little.</p><p>"Is <em>it</em> now?"</p><p>She looks delightfully surprised by the witty retort.</p><p>"You know... I believe some of my cheekiness might be rubbing off on you, love." She observes.</p><p>And it is.</p><p><em>She</em>, in her wholeness, <em>is</em>. Generally speaking. Undoubtedly so.</p><p>And you are surprised that despite it, you still haven't lost your sense of self like part of you was marginally afraid of. If anything, she is helping you uncover some facets of yourself that you weren't even aware were there all this time.</p><p>You look at her and let your smirk stretch into something positively lewd, feeling like you are finally regaining back some of your missing confidence.</p><p>"That's not the only part of you that I love feeling rubbing off on me."</p><p>And now it's <em>her</em> turn to groan and roll her eyes at the awful innuendo.</p><p>You can only laugh.</p><p>(Apparently, some of your own peculiarities are rubbing off on her as well).</p><p>"You're lucky that I find that sweet mouth of yours, your voice, and your exotic accent too irresistible, or else I would have already gagged you with my smalls."</p><p>You glance at the mentioned undergarment - a fashionable article of orlesian black lace that leaves very little to the imagination - laying discarded on the side with the rest of your clothes, and covered with a distinguishable, shimmering layer of arousal from the inside.</p><p>You lick your lips and swallow.</p><p>You wouldn't be... opposed by the idea.</p><p>An amused sound of surprise pulls you back from yet another filthy image your brain has conjured, and redirects your attention to the present which is... just as enticing.</p><p>"Andraste's sacred buttocks... you are even kinkier than I thought under that pristine armor of yours." Evelyn marvels at the realization.</p><p>It's said with the utmost delight, dusted with a sprinkle of teasing, and lacks of any judgment, but the comment still adds a couple of degrees to the heat flaring down your neck and chest.</p><p>Tired of her being the one with the upper hand, you steel your nerves, reach out between her legs and swipe your thumb on the hard little bud jutting out from beneath its hood.</p><p>And <em>that</em> puts an end to any more sly comments. Eliciting the most exquisite sounds in their stead.</p><p>She rolls her hips, seeking the slippery, feather-light brush of your thumb, only to catch herself with a gasp when she remembers, surprised, of the shaft splitting her open.</p><p>She moans at the wide stretch.</p><p>A low, wanton noise that reverberates in her chest and makes gooseflesh erupt all over your body.</p><p>Her eyes flutter shut as she braces herself on your lower abdomen and then, tentatively, almost experimentally, flexes her thighs to lift herself off.</p><p>It's just a few inches, but the movement is more than enough to earn another one of those moans when she lowers herself down and onto your lap.</p><p>She shudders and her fingers flex on your lower belly. Nails scratching lightly and fueling your own arousal.</p><p>You rotate your wrist to replace the fleeting brush of your thumb with two fingers, pressing them slightly more firmly against her clit to improve sensation, but still careful to not apply too much pressure. (She would take advantage otherwise, you already know).</p><p>And she may be the one on top, but you have no intention whatsoever to let her control <em>everything</em>. She has already persuaded you to simply lay back and watch - which you are <em>definitely not</em> complaining about, but rather taking advantage of the moment to regain some of your composure and will your hands to stop shaking with the mix of arousal and trepidation coursing through your veins and fogging your brain.</p><p>So for now, you watch while she finds her rhythm.</p><p>Despite the initial stretch and adequate pause to get accustomed to the feeling, once Evelyn is properly settled and ready to move, she does so in earnest, without hesitation.</p><p>It doesn't take her long to establish a satisfying, slow-moderate pace. And when she does... Well... You aren't so opposed to resting back against the pillows some more and take in the best view that no one else in Skyhold has ever witnessed. (Nor ever will).</p><p>Lady Evelyn Trevelyan is nothing short of a vision on top of you like this.</p><p>All bare smooth skin, still lightly tanned from your time in the Hissing Wastes and Emerald Graves, glowing a precious honeyed hue in the afternoon sun streaming through the Ferelden glass of her balcony windows.</p><p>The beams of light smooth the edges and exalt the softness of her most flattering features.</p><p>She is both slender and softer than you in shape, but in a lighter and more flexible way that your muscular build could never hope to achieve at this stage in life.</p><p>You marvel at how every single inch of her is a glorious tribute to femininity; from the exquisite curves of her supple hips, to the toned surface of her flat belly, her lithe limbs, the perfect shape and size of her breasts, topped with what you know are extremely sensitive buds, tinted just a few shades darker respect the rest of her lightly tanned skin.</p><p>The jut of her collarbones and the delicious long stretch of her neck are an invitation to look further up, and when you do, for a moment, you forget how to breathe.</p><p>The air trapped in your lungs. Shivering.</p><p>You can only watch, completely spellbound, as she brushes her long, loose hair from the back of her neck and over one shoulder, letting the naturally wavy locks tumble down like a golden-brown curtain. Blue eyes gazing at you from beneath long lashes. Lips parted. Sounds that alternate between breaths and moans drifting past as she rides you in earnest.</p><p>An embarrassingly animalistic groan rumbles in your chest in front of such a sinfully delightful sight.</p><p>She definitely <em>knows</em> what she is doing.</p><p>The confidence with which she moves - lifting herself off your lap and then dropping with a grinding motion that has her clit pressing more firmly against your circling fingers - is testimony that this isn't the first time for her trying such a position.</p><p>She has done this before.</p><p>Suddenly, as if prompted by such realization, an image of her straddling someone else- having someone else inside her (either a woman wearing a similar device, or a naturally-equipped man, given her past involving lovers of both genders without preferences) flashes in your mind.</p><p>It flares something within you that you refuse to recognize as jealousy because that would be just beyond <em>ridiculous</em> and equally embarrassing and you are <em>not</em> the kind of person whose confidence gets shaken and taken hostage by such nonsense.</p><p>And yet, there is a most primal part of you that you can't quite control and that reacts to the emotion sparked by such image.</p><p>You squash it and direct that... inexplicable flare of possessiveness by reaching out with your free hand to take a firmly bruising hold of her hip.</p><p>The unexpected roughness of the gesture earns you a gasped moan and a new rush of wetness between her legs.</p><p>You look down where your bodies are joined by thick leather and can't hold back the growled moan that thunders in your chest at the sight of her; all fleshy pink softness surrounded by trimmed light-brown curls, stretching and sliding along the shaft, leaving the smooth, dark leather rod glistening with more and more of her slickness after every stroke.</p><p>The visual stimulation is almost too much.</p><p>So of course that's when you <em>feel it</em>.</p><p>Overcome by the burst of affection, attraction (and consequent passion) that you have experienced when you first invited yourself in her chambers and found her in that dress, you have completely forgot about the <em>other</em>, mutually pleasing function of the device strapped to your hips.</p><p>But you are soon rendered aware of it, with a bolt of electricity - quite literally, in fact - as Evelyn's mana floats out of her body in glowy blue tendrils of pleasure that are more than enough charged with harmless magic to unknowingly activate the rune pressed against your clit.</p><p>
  <em>"Ah!"</em>
</p><p>"What the-" She feels it too. Her movements stutter to a halt. Eyes wide with an equal amount of surprise and concern. "-what was <em>that</em>?"</p><p>You trust the talented, albeit incredibly excitable dwarven Arcanist that the Inquisition- that <em>Evelyn</em> has recruited. But it's not exactly uncommon hearing a few explosions coming from the Undercroft. Occasionally. As a result of some dubious experiment.</p><p>But when a moment passes. Then another. And nothing explodes or your lower regions get set on fire, you let your body lose some of the tension that had gathered in your muscles and allow yourself to simply <em>feel</em> the subtle buzz of static energy heralding a most unexpected feeling that almost had you leap out of bed with a start.</p><p>"Cassandra?"</p><p>It's...</p><p>Not what you expected but... Once charged and activated, the buzz intensifies as if in response to your own arousal and-</p><p>"O-ohh..."</p><p>Perceptive as she is, it only takes a few moments for Evelyn to clear away that haze of confusion and reach her conclusion by catching the meaning behind your stammered gasp of pleasure. Her eyes widen in disbelief for a moment, her gaze flitting down between your bodies, and when the realization sinks in, her entire face lights up with an utterly delighted smirk.</p><p>"You devious little trickster," She accuses, managing to sound playful even when slightly breathless. "You didn't tell me you got this <em>enchanted</em>."</p><p>There hasn't been the occasion. But honestly, it's because she has managed to once again distract you enough that you actually forgot.</p><p>"W-words are overrated," You tell her, surprising even yourself with such a statement. Because words, even to someone like you who most days struggles to find the right ones, have weight. Especially hers.</p><p>"Normally, I would object." Evelyn says. "In this instance, however, I have to agree completely."</p><p>And to reinforce such statement, she wastes not a moment longer with words, reclaiming your lips in a deep, bruising kiss instead that seems to promise that the talking will be mostly reserved to the rest of your bodies from now on.</p><p>Made aware that her pleasure is basically intertwined with your own at a more <em>physical</em> level, when she starts moving once again on top of you, there is even more determination in each down-stroke. And the resulting moans and sparks that they elicit from you seem to add to her vigor.</p><p>The main sensation is localized on your clit, right where the rune is designed to rest, but you swear that you can feel those gentle, controlled little shocks - like miniature lightning chains - traveling deep within your belly and igniting you from the inside out.</p><p>Your core clenches on itself and the rune pressed against you sends a series of incredibly pleasurable, warm, buzzing sparks that make your resolve about prolonging this for a bit longer, wobble dangerously.</p><p>And when, in a search for a distraction, you look up at Evelyn and see those dazzling blue eyes staring back at you and burning with such desire... That look on its own threatens to undo you right here and now.</p><p>You weren't quite prepared to receive so much direct stimulation. But you also know better than to pin it all on the device itself, no matter how remarkable such piece of craftsmanship is.</p><p>This most wonderful result is a combination of factors, which are hurling you faster than you realize towards that precipice.</p><p>"E-Evelyn..." You stutter. Muscles draw taut, twitching and straining with the impending release you won't be able to hold back much longer. "I'm-"</p><p>"I know." She interrupts knowingly, her own voice strained,  her moans increasing in pitch and turning into familiar little whimpers that, along with the unsteady rhythm of her hips, are the telltale signs of her approaching that very same precipice.</p><p>"Me, too." She confirms with a breathy moan.</p><p>Her hips roll with more insistence and you recognize the desperation that guides her as the same one gnawing at your insides.</p><p>She lifts faster and drops harder onto you, her fingernails biting deeper in the flesh of your lower abdomen. She is shaking with effort all over, and her legs are clearly starting to feel the strain. And so, desperate to help her get there, you stroke her clit more firmly.</p><p>The slippery circles that you draw around that hard little bundle of nerves are uncoordinated and sloppy at best, but the rough pressure of your calloused tips is exactly what she needs.</p><p>There is only <em>one more thing...</em></p><p>You muster enough energy and coordination to sit upright, ignoring the ache of your protesting muscles, and pressing your fronts together. </p><p>She has several inches of advantage on you in such position, but that means that it brings your mouth exactly where you wanted, precisely where you know she enjoys.</p><p>Without breaking the motion of your hand between her legs, or the one on her hip to guide her thrusts, you lean forward and suck one stiff nipple into your mouth.</p><p>Evelyn cries out.</p><p>One of her hands shoots up. Slim, deft fingers tangle into your hair, nails scratching your scalp and pulling you closer as she cranes her head back and moans at the high ceiling.</p><p>A breathy, shaky sound that, paired with the uneven rolling motion of her hips, harbingers her impending fall.</p><p>It's all an encouragement for you to suck harder, stroke her faster, guide her thrusts to help her take you <em>deeper.</em></p><p>And for all those reasons you might not be able to witness the moment it happens, but you definitely <em>feel it</em>, all around you, when she tips over the edge.</p><p>With one last strangled cry she drops onto your lap, taking the shaft to the hilt, her entire body tenses up, as if to brace herself, and then submits to that pull of gravity that has her freefalling and shattering in your arms in a series of violent shudders.</p><p>Unwilling to miss the spectacle, you draw back from her breast. The thin thread of spit stretching between her nipple and your bottom lip snapping as you look up at her.</p><p>Stunning doesn't suffice to describe how magnificently beautiful she looks like this, caught in the thrall of raw pleasure.</p><p>Her mana blazes, her magic fluttering all around you, and you can <em>feel it</em> as it intensifies the vibrating hum between your legs.</p><p>The movement of her hips resumes, jerky and erratic, but there is still a purpose behind it that has nothing to do with the selfish instinct to prolong her own ascent. The way she grinds against you, deliberately harder with every down-stroke, says that she has every intention to drag you down that precipice with her.</p><p>And just like so many instances where she is involved, you simply cannot refuse any wish of hers.</p><p>Firstly though, you catch her in your arms when her wobbly legs give signs of no longer being able to support her weight in such position, holding her against your chest as you settle down onto the bed.</p><p>She pants and whimpers and sobs her release against your neck as you plant your feet onto the bed and roll your hips to thrust into her from below.</p><p>A most minimal adjustment puts pressure exactly where you need it, and the rune - reacting to the intense swirl of mana still coming off in waves from her body  - vibrates with a most pleasurable crackling warmth, but in the end, what really makes you surrender and follow her into an oblivion of bliss, is a combination of feelings.</p><p>The sensation of her skin, flushed and sweaty against your own. Her frantic heartbeat thrumming against yours. The puffs of her hot, sweet breath brushing that weak spot on your neck and making you shiver from the inside out. And also, the gush of warmth that pours from between her legs to paint you with a fresh gush of her release when she shatters for a second time.</p><p>It's all too much.</p><p>Your body goes rigid with a croaked cry, wrapping your arms around her and bracing for the impact, and when it finally hits you, the intensity of the orgasm knocks the air out of your lungs.</p><p>The surge of pleasure that washes over you is most powerful.</p><p>But also brief.</p><p>Although definitely not in a way you would ever define as disappointing.</p><p>It's more like the first bite of a tasty appetizer at a feast, leaving your mouth watering and your insides growling for more.</p><p>And Evelyn is the first one to externalize such need.</p><p>Somewhere during your fall, you must have lost balance and ended up laying on your side.</p><p>You haven't quite yet finished your descent - or understood precisely how your bodies are arranged - that she is already hooking one leg over your hip and rolling hers to slide along the shaft still buried deep inside her.</p><p>"Cassandra..." She begs, but you are already regaining your sense of orientation and maneuvering to lay her on her back, bracing yourself on top of her with slightly shaky arms.</p><p>"Like this?" You ask her, but only because you know what hearing your accent does to her in these intimate moments.</p><p>Your voice has gone raspy and raw. So even just whispering the question in her ear has her shivering and whimpering in response.</p><p>"Is this how you want it?" You ask her again, hopelessly addicted to those sweet little sounds she makes.</p><p>"<em>Is this how you want me?</em>" For good measure, you punctuate the question with a first, shallow thrust.</p><p>"Yesss!" She hisses and quivers beneath you, spreading her legs wide, opening herself up even more, so that not even an inch of her is hidden from you, granting you all the space you need to move freely and then some.</p><p>Emboldened by a surge of confidence, you drive your hips forward, tilting them slightly upwards as you slide all the way in, and while the cry that gets promptly ripped from her throat has you stiffen with the worry that you might have thrust a bit too hard in your enthusiasm, the way her hips lift off the bed to chase your retreat, and the possessiveness with which her hands shoot down your buttocks and hold fast into the firm set of muscles there to keep you inside, says <em>everything</em> you need to be reassured that this is <em>precisely</em> what she has been waiting for.</p><p>And so you set up a rhythm that is the exact opposite of the languid, caring lovemaking you usually indulge in whenever you manage to find some time to spend with each other. Moving on top of her with purpose and certainty, rolling your hips with a naturalness that surprises you but don't dare (or care) to question.</p><p>Slow and deliberate, hard and<em> deep</em>, your thrusts allow her to feel every single inch of the thick shaft stretching and sliding in and out of her.</p><p>And Her Worship Evelyn Trevelyan is many things: A most skilled (and quite deadly) mage with unique abilities. A strong, confident leader worth dying for. A generally fierce and fearless woman who more often than not charges head-first into danger...</p><p>...But "quiet in the bedchambers" is not among the list of her main qualities.</p><p>Not that you would <em>ever</em> complain in such regards.</p><p>Not even if all of Skyhold- servants, agents, colleagues, and visiting guests- would end up hearing her howls of pleasure.</p><p>It's quite flattering, in fact.</p><p>Hearing the way she moans and groans and whimpers and sobs her pleasure unabashedly out into the open, because <em>of you</em>. Only muffled when she plants sloppy kisses into the crook of your neck and leaves the imprint of several bites wherever her mouth and sharp teeth can reach. Digs her blunt fingernails in your shoulder blades, your lower back, your thighs, the muscular flesh of your buttocks, urging you closer, taking you<em> deeper</em>, as if keeping your bodies anything other than melted together would be unbearable. (A silent need and sentiment that is wholly shared by every lust-flaming fiber of your being).</p><p>It's primal and animalistic and sweaty and <em>filthy</em>, and before you know it, lost as you are, blindly wading through the thick mist of your passionate lovemaking, you find yourself on the precipice with her, surprised by your own shocking level of arousal as it ambushes you between one thrust and the next. <br/>It mixes with hers in the air to create this intoxicating, unique, sweetly musky fragrance; the boiled-down result of your all-consuming ardor.</p><p>The rune, effective as it is, contributes just enough for you not to get lost in chasing your own pleasure and risk missing all these tiny little details that are what truly drive you towards the peak.</p><p>There is a subtle ache on your lower back and shoulders due to exertion, respectively for thrusting and holding yourself up, but those are nothing compared to the vengeful throb pulsing insistently between your legs.</p><p>You are almost there.</p><p>You add a grinding motion with each deep thrust, and Evelyn's breath hitches in between moans in that familiar way whenever your pelvis rubs against the hard little bud of her clit.</p><p>With no other way to provide further stimulation, and not trusting your coordination at this point to risk falling over her in an attempt to reach directly between her legs, you find another, less direct way to encourage her. Knowing that the stimulation received by the enchanted rune, paired with watching and feeling her fall will drag you down that abyss along with her. And you do this by whispering words of endearment in her ear.</p><p>You call her "darling" and "beloved" in Common.</p><p>You tell her that she is your "everything" in Nevarran.</p><p>You confess her that no one has ever held your heart so dearly as she does. </p><p>And then, when the cascade of soft sentiments (lovely as they are as she also returns them earnestly in between half-coherent gasps and moans) aren't enough to push her in the direction you need her to - surprising yourself in a way that would have you die of mortification were you anything other than drunk with lust at the moment and too far gone to overthink it, you also call her a "first-prize mare ready to be mount".</p><p>A breeding bitch in heat.</p><p>A cheap harlot.</p><p>A cock-starved brothel <em>whore</em>-</p><p>And that's it.</p><p>The spark of filthy, perversed excitement stoked by a mix of humiliation lits her on fire, and those hungry, voracious, roaring flames devour everything in their path.</p><p>She shiver and shakes and shouts and <em>shatters</em> beneath you like crystal. Tightening so hard around the shaft buried inside her that, as the first wave crashes onto her with devastating force, even the tiniest movement is rendered impossible.</p><p>So you rest deep inside and <em>grind</em> against her as she comes explosively. Scratching your back and shouting your name to the Heavens and for all of Skyhold (most likely) to hear it.</p><p>And with the sound of it, with the feeling of her coming apart around you, with the burst of her mana coming forth along with her pleasure - so powerful despite its harmless, uncharged nature to send your Seeker's sense into a frenzy that nearly overwhelms you with vertigo - and with just one more, perfectly aimed, desperate grinding thrust, your resolution snaps. </p><p>You tip over.</p><p>And tumble down that precipice after her.</p><p>The fall is endlessly long and just as wondrously intense.</p><p>It's just as exhilarating as you imagine would be launching yourself off a waterfall with no idea how far below the drop is going to be. Only clinging to that exhilarating feeling of utter freedom and adrenaline before the inevitable plunge.</p><p>Your release is so deep that it seems to originate from the very essence of your being.</p><p>It drains you of everything. Winding with Evelyn's own pleasure and, moving together - meeting one another's thrusts - you manage to prolong such bliss, until finally, after a short eternity, it subsides.</p><p>You emerge.</p><p>Breaking the surface and gasping, swallowing a lungful of air.</p><p>As you get settled back into your own body, you are made aware of the shakiness of your limbs, of the ringing in your ears, the buzz in the back of your head and the blurriness of your vision when you try to open your eyes.</p><p>It lasts a few seconds, until you manage to blink into focus and catch Evelyn's own swaying, drunken, unfocused gaze.</p><p>It seems to clear as soon as your eyes meet.</p><p>And then you grin to each other and laugh for no reason at all and all the reasons at once, drawing close again, nuzzling each other's nose before meeting in a kiss.</p><p>The tendrils of her magic are still floating actively in the air, curling languidly around your bodies and tingling on your skin.</p><p>A combination of feelings that, in their subtlety, add a great deal to the quietly exhilarating sort of experience that is your shared afterglow, bringing you down from the height you have just ascended far more slowly and gently. </p><p>You take advantage of the lulling descent to get settled more comfortably. To carefully ease out from inside her once her inner muscles allow you to, swallowing the equally protesting and slightly relieved whimpers that the movement earns.</p><p>You never stop kissing. Not even when you shift with the intent of removing the toy from around your waist. Both your set of hands working together, on mutual accord, blindly yet efficiently, on the straps and buckles to help you discard it and toss it aside.</p><p>Your lips keep moving against each other's as if you had both decided (without even needing to utter a single vowel about it) that after an experience like this, the physical separation, no matter how brief, would be simply unbearable.</p><p>Only when the need for proper air burns in your chest you do draw back, reluctantly, making up for the separation of your lips by slotting closer to each other's body, this time, with nothing foreign in between but heated, sweat-slick skin and the purest sense of contentment.</p><p>"H-hey..." You rasp flashing her a coy smile.</p><p>"Hey yourself, gorgeous." She grins brilliantly.</p><p>"That was-"</p><p>"Yeah..." She hums and smiles drowsily. Then, most unexpectedly-  "Thank you."</p><p>You almost do a double-take. Blinking and shaking your head as if struck, stunned.</p><p>"You... are thanking <em>me</em> for this?"</p><p>She ponders the perplexed inquiry with a pensive hum, just long enough until she reaches her conclusion and declares, "You are right, I guess I<em> should</em> be thanking Leliana instead. No doubt you owe her a pretty big favour now."</p><p>You gawk at her. Balking and spluttering.</p><p>"H-<em>how-</em>?"</p><p>"Oh come on, love," She chuckles, reaching out to brush aside a few sweat-slick strands of short black hair from your temple and then letting her fingers drift nearby to play with the shell of your ear. The touch so tender and dear in its nature that it's enough to ease some of that tension coiling in your chest.</p><p>"Who else could you have gone to that you trust so much to ask for a way to get in possession of this new appendage?" She points out. "Vivienne? Sera? Oh no, no, <em>wait!</em> I know! Mother Giselle!"</p><p>You glower at her as she dissolves into an insufferable, unfairly pretty, snickering-snorting pile.</p><p>"Sorry, I'm sorry!" She amends, although she doesn't look like it as she keeps on laughing.</p><p>Your gaze hardens but the sound of her laugh and the sight of her so happy and relaxed and positively <em>humming</em> in the aftermath of your vigorous lovemaking, takes any bite from that look that usually never fails to make whatever unfortunate bastard finds themselves on the other end of it, cower in fear and scurry away.</p><p>Evelyn simply grins in front of that - as she has dubbed it - "lovely scowl", and it really says <em>a lot</em> that it's all it takes for your expression to slowly melt into an exasperated smile.</p><p>It's a relief, really.</p><p>You were so nervous, almost beyond reason, about introducing something new into your sexual life, about expanding it beyond known territory, that you have almost allowed yourself to be consumed by the resulting swell of doubt and self-consciousness.</p><p>And yet, here you both are.</p><p>Sated.</p><p>Content.</p><p>Blissfully so.</p><p>And - just like that tiny voice in the back of your head had whispered to you that day outside the Herald's Rest - nothing has changed like you were afraid it would.</p><p>It's still <em>you</em>.</p><p>And you laugh inwardly at how silly it has been to believe otherwise even for a moment. How utterly <em>ridiculous</em> it has been to even consider the thought that Evelyn would have denied you anything when she has always been nothing other than understanding and patient and loving and <em>giving</em> from the very first moment you submitted to the pull of your heartstrings and decided to give a chance to whatever sort of affection was blossoming between the two of you.</p><p>"Can I ask you something?" You hear Evelyn ask. The question nothing more than a quiet murmur, but loud enough to disrupt your thoughts and bringing you back to the present. You clear the haze of memory by blinking, and when you glance back at her, you find her biting on her lower lip in a rare display of uncertainty - such a sharp contrast with the amusement that was there but a few moments ago - that the sight has you frown and hasten to answer.</p><p>"Of course." Anything.<em> Always.</em></p><p>She releases her lip and, surprisingly, doesn't tease you about the eagerness in your answer as part of you expected her to. Instead, she asks you if, "Did you approach Leliana because you were too nervous about coming to me and tell me that you wanted to try... <em>this</em>?"</p><p>The question may be tinted with a shade of hesitation, but her tone is unassuming, laced with that same, safe lack of judgment that prevents you from stiffening at the nature of the inquiry and actually coaxes your honesty out with remarkable ease.</p><p>"Perhaps just a little." You admit, and she seems equally surprised and pleased by the sincerity of your answer. And the surprise only grows more visibly on her features when you also confess to her that, "I've never done anything like this before. So when I first thought of it, I was curious, but I also felt... strange about wanting to try it. And..."</p><p>
  <em>And...</em>
</p><p>Mh.</p><p>Your voice trails off. Because there is more to what you are trying (and failing) to say. More to the thoughts you can't put into order. But Evelyn, perceptive as she is, and having learned her way around your constant search for proper words and the way your mind works, immediately catches the possible reason why you might have felt so... awkward and self-conscious about discussing the matter with her.</p><p>"Is it because I enjoy the company of both women and men?"</p><p>Your first reaction (quite unsurprisingly) would be to deny the insinuation on the spot.</p><p>But this time you halt your tongue, fighting back that knee-jerk reaction by taking a few moments to actually <em>think</em> about it, properly, analyzing the question, and giving such thought the attention that it deserves. So that you can give <em>her</em> the honest answer that <em>she</em> deserves.</p><p>Somehow, inevitably (as it tends to happen whenever you linger on the subject) your mind drifts to Leliana and to her own lack of preferences in the matter, which she has confirmed (after a curious inquiry on your part) hasn't changed even if she has chosen to settle down with her beloved Warden.</p><p>In the end, grasping at a few, major hints dropped from both your former fellow Hand and your lover, you reach your conclusion.</p><p>You don't think it has to much to do with the "flexible sexuality" topic itself. But more <em>like...</em></p><p>"I think it's your open-mindedness." Your mouth says in the exact same moment your brain manages to finally make the connection, surprising even you with such honesty. The spark resulting from such epiphany casting a blinding light over the shadows of doubts.</p><p>As you bask in its comforting splendor and warmth, you hear Evelyn hum thoughtfully beside you, and when you glance back at her, you see her nodding with conviction, as if what you just said makes sense to her and - more than that - like she<em> understands</em>.</p><p>You are quietly marveling over how she manages to do so with such ease when even <em>you</em> still have trouble sorting and understanding your own emotions sometimes, when she ambushes you with a most unexpected request.</p><p>"Tell me about your first time."</p><p>You blink out of your bewilderment to find an excited little smile quirking her lips and the glimmer of unadulterated curiosity sparkling in her eyes, composing a look that makes it close to impossible for you to even <em>think</em> about denying her of her excited (and quite puzzling) little request.</p><p>"Where were you? How was it?" She asks.</p><p>Fighting back a smile of your own, you resign yourself with a sigh and proceed to satisfy what - coming from anyone else would have been nosiness - but from her is simple, pure curiosity, mingled with that... something <em>else</em> that has no doubt prompted the question itself.</p><p>The memory is old and blurry. </p><p>The details just as hazy (luckily, you don't have to linger on those). But the memory of your former lover definitely isn't. And as you narrate the experience, the taste it leaves in your mouth is bitter-sweet. The pain of loss hasn't soured it.</p><p>You miss Regalyan.</p><p>Still love him.</p><p>Part of you probably always will.</p><p>But the rest of you loves Evelyn with everything that you have. Everything that you <em>are</em>. And more fiercely than you have ever loved anyone else.</p><p>You meet her gaze after your short tale and are surprised to find a mixture of regret staring back at you from behind a veil of sorrow shaded in blue.</p><p>"What about you?" You ask before that look on her face might soften some more with feelings that will undoubtedly prompt her to apologize for having asked and poked at a wound that hasn't completely scarred over yet.</p><p>Much to your relief, the distraction, for how simple, works.</p><p>Her entire expression morphs into a more familiar grin. A mischievous smile that doesn't simply show how delighted she is that you asked, but also suggests what is likely going to be an equally devious, shocking answer.</p><p>"My first time, was with a Templar posted at my Circle."</p><p>You actually do a double-take at the revelation.</p><p>Your entire body going rigid as a sinking feeling punches you in the stomach with staggering force.</p><p>And the only thing that prevents that awful feeling from turning into actual dread and dragging you down an impenetrable darkness of rage, is exactly the nature of that sly little smile gracing her lips.</p><p>Still, the sickening concern must be showing quite plainly on your face because her eyes go wide and her mouth drops open as she suddenly realizes<em> where</em> - given your professional experiences as a Seeker - your train of thoughts must have led to.</p><p>"Oh, Maker's breath! N-no! No, Cassandra, i-it was consesual!" In her haste to reassure you, she even <em>stammers</em>.</p><p>
  <em>Her.</em>
</p><p>Lady <em>"Eloquence"</em> Trevelyan.</p><p>And the relief is so grand upon hearing such reassurance that the awful weight in your stomach gets lifted, slowly but surely dissolving into nothingness, easing the pressure that you had also felt settled on your chest, and allowing you to breathe. A sound like a  chuckle slipping past your lips with the next relieved exhale, only realizing how horribly tense your body had gotten when you feel the tension drain from your muscles the moment you lay back down on the bed.</p><p>"Shit. Fuck. I'm sorry," Evelyn swears coherently, looking quite mortified and just as guilty for having scared you so. "I-I didn't mean to worry you... I just... I hadn't realized... <em>ugh.</em>"</p><p>...Adorable.</p><p>Deprived of that crippling worry, you can't resist drinking in the sight of her stumbling over words like this, especially because it is a sight you are <em>definitely</em> never going to witness, ever again.</p><p>"So... A Templar, uh?" You prompt her, taking pity on her flustered state after just a moment longer spent admiring how lovely she looks so flustered. (No wonder she takes such delight in eliciting similar reactions from you if the result is even half as charming as this).</p><p>And just like that, her grin returns in full force and she is back to being the insufferable tease that you have fallen in love with in spite of everything.</p><p>"I know," She gasps quietly in mock scandal, still smiling brilliantly. "Who would have <em>ever</em> imagined that when I was younger I was such a naughty girl?"</p><p>"I'm shocked." You state dispassionately. Because you are anything <em>but</em>.</p><p>The pretense, however, is short-lived when your mind tries to fill in the blanks left by her revelation.</p><p>"When... I mean how... <em>Where</em> did you..?"</p><p>"Oh, you want specifics, too." She teases, but unlike you, she sates your curiosity with a more thorough description.</p><p>"It happened in the very romantic confines of the supply closet of the third floor. Among mops and brooms and other cleaning equipment, but without the ogling spiders found on the lower levels." She concludes with a faux dreamy sigh and you can't help but snort.</p><p>"Hey!" She defends, smacking your shoulder as you burst out into a proper laugh at the mental picture she has conjured.</p><p><br/>"I'll have you know that even if it was clumsy as hell, it was also kind of nice. Sweet."</p><p>That, at least, has your humor subside enough to allow a proper, sincere smile to settle on your lips.</p><p>Because that's good.</p><p>She deserves to have a nice memory of it. To have been treated right. To think of it with a smile.</p><p>"We sneaked around for a while." She continues, unprompted, and you are happy to listen as the memories of another time come flowing back to her. She so seldom speaks of her life before the Inquisition that you can't not treasure the moment.</p><p>"Several months, actually." She informs. "It made me feel like a normal teenager. The fact that it was forbidden and the secrecy of it all only made it that much more intriguing."</p><p>"Until..." You urge her, gently, sensing - from the little change in her expression and tone at the lingering pause following that last sentence - that there is more.</p><p>She sighs, and that suspicion you just had grows tangibly when you catch a flicker of regret crossing her features before she schools them back into a mostly neutral expression. But in the deep pools of blue that are her eyes, you can still distinguish the telltale ripple of self-reprimand.</p><p>"Until the day we realized that maybe we weren't being as <em>discreet</em> as we thought we were."</p><p>Ignoring the uneasiness settling in the pit of your stomach, you ask her to continue.</p><p>"What happened?"</p><p>She snorts, but the sound is a hollow, bitter sort of amusement that doesn't belong anywhere near her and sounds just <em>wrong</em> falling from her lips like that.</p><p>"It happened that one of the Lieutenants making the rounds heard noises and caught him in our favored "secret spots" with a fistful of my hair in his hand, and my head in his lap."</p><p>You wince, more at the magnitude of awkwardness and crippling embarrassment that such situation no doubt must have earned, rather than the graphic description of what she was doing.</p><p>"Of course she had completely misinterpreted what was happening. But since there is no such thing as consent between a Templar and their Charges... Well, you know how it is."</p><p>You do.</p><p>It's what had you so horribly worried just a few minutes ago, when she first made the confession. The idea that it wasn't consensual.</p><p>Still, even though as a Seeker you are well aware of how such... situations... get handled, you feel compelled to ask.</p><p>"What happened to him?"</p><p>She heaves another sigh. "After we got caught, I talked to the Lieutenant who caught us, then spoke with my First Enchanter, who then talked to the Knight-Commander, who somehow convinced the Seeker who came to "investigate" to make sure no abuse was involved from his part - that we were just two young fools messing around. So he got an admonition, seen unfit to perform his duty around "pretty young ladies" and got sent who-knows-where."</p><p>"I'm sorry." You offer, poorly. But the sincerity of your sympathy and remorse upon hearing the story is enough to earn you a small smile.</p><p>"It was more his friendship that I missed afterward when he was gone." She confesses. "Odd, isn't it?" <em>No... it isn't,</em> you think, understanding precisely what she means.</p><p>"He was funny. And very kind. Always found a way to make me laugh whenever I was having a bad day, and sometimes managed to sneak some treats he got at the market and past the rest of the other Templars whenever I succumbed to frustration after some spell I had been working on for weeks didn't go as it was supposed to." And that's when a thread of sadness and ancient melancholy weaves itself in her voice, tangling with the rest of those light, pleasant memories.</p><p>"I often thought where he might have been stationed at afterward..."</p><p>In a heartbeat, as soon as she voices such a thought, her entire body stiffens, and with it, the pensiveness on her face gets replaced by a pale, grim expression.</p><p>Unwilling to let her chase that unhealthy and worrying thought, you find a way to divert her attention by asking her something else.</p><p>"Was he the only one you ever... fraternized... within the Circle?"</p><p>You aren't particularly interested in knowing everything about her past lovers (some hidden, dark part of you might feel compelled to hunt them down one by one and do unspeakable things to them for having ever dared to gaze upon her naked body) but you are more than willing to suffer that foreign, utterly idiotic sting of jealously if it means taking her mind off her first lover and friend possibly being among the army of Red Templars right now. Maybe one of the horrifically mutated ones that you have already fought and killed.</p><p>When her eyes light up with surprise and her lips quirk into a smirk, you know you have succeeded in your intent.</p><p>"My, aren't you curious, <em>Seeker Pentaghast</em>?" She teases, but hearing her pronounce your title and name with that little purr in her voice has your insides squirm in a peculiarly pleasant way.</p><p><em>The things she does to you...</em> Maker have mercy.</p><p>You have the decency to blush as your mouth opens and closes in search of words that simply won't come to your aid, no matter how dire a need you are for the right ones.</p><p>Luckily, mercifully, before you can further embarrass yourself by stuttering some pitiful excuse of a response, she breathes a chuckle and answers your question.</p><p>"No. He wasn't. Although, if what happened to him-<em>with him</em>- has taught me something and got me thinking, is that keeping things casual within the Circle- with people you'll see every day and won't be able to avoid in case of an awkward break-up, wasn't wise."</p><p>It does sound quite... unpleasant.</p><p>"It certainly didn't stop anyone from occasionally hanging their Circle-issued cowl on the doorknob of the supply closet on the third floor though, if you know what I mean," She winks smartly. You roll your eyes and swallow down a groan.</p><p>"And it <em>definitely</em> didn't stop me from falling head over heels in love with an apostate that was brought to the Circle a couple of years later." She confesses.</p><p>And oh... <em>there</em> she is. </p><p>Smiling once again that unfairly charming smirk of hers that you have pretended for far too long that didn't affect you.</p><p>You can't help the affectionate chuckle that tumbles past your lips.</p><p>"So, a Templar <em>and</em> an Apostate?" <em>Talk about opposites...</em></p><p>She sighs wistfully, eyes drifting briefly closed at the much fresher memory. "Brilliant. Fierce. Incredibly skilled. A raw beauty that made her simply <em>stunning</em>." Then she blinks them open and, with a contrast of pointed gentleness and burning affection, she looks <em>right</em> at you.</p><p>"A taciturn exterior. A bit rough around the edges," She reaches out with one hand to trace the scar on your cheek, letting her fingers drift lower, skimming the side of your jaw and neck before reaching the center of your chest, her entire palm resting lightly right upon the flutter echoing beneath your sternum. </p><p>"But so deceptively soft and caring and passionate under that armor."</p><p>She looks at you with that softness in her eyes that has your heart pounding beneath her hand. </p><p>You swallow, but your voice still sounds raw with a thousand cramped emotions when you dare to speak.</p><p>"It seems like you have a type..."</p><p>She hums in agreement but, simultaneously, shakes her head in negative, her smile devoid of any mischief, eyes bright and brimming with the purest adoration.</p><p>"I <em>had</em>." She corrects. "Now, there is only you, my love."</p><p>Just like there is only her for you.</p><p>You quite understand.</p><p>Even if you still fail to find the logic behind your worthiness of having such a look directed at you.</p><p>Having nothing else to provide that would convey the same, you can only meet her lips in a kiss to voice things that cannot be put into words. To reinforce that mutual truth you know will never change.</p><p>The kiss is sweet and languid.</p><p>It doesn't escalate. But its softness mends old hurts and strengthens the moment, and when you pull back, there is a new layer of understanding to be found in Evelyn's piercing blue eyes.</p><p>"I'm willing to try anything you want, Cassandra." She says, and the kiss left you so fuzzy that it actually takes you a moment to catch up with her and realize that she is referring to what you were discussing before your long digression into first lovers.</p><p>Your gaze drifts briefly over the edge of the bed, catching a glimpse of tangled leather straps and polished buckles resting atop the pile of your discarded clothes. You swallow, feeling the arousal stir anew low in your belly at the fresh memories branded hotly in your mind.</p><p>"Anything?" You ask looking back at her, your voice echoing the same trepidation and hopefulness that you suspect must be also showing on your unguarded features.</p><p>With a smile, she scoots closer, pressing her forehead against yours, and the tenderness and meaningfulness of the simple gesture pulls at the thread that unfurls the tightness made of uncertainty that had seized your chest.</p><p>"<em>Anything.</em>" She repeats and your mouth goes dry at the amount of emphasis that she manages to pour into that one single word, and the edge of possessiveness in it that gets further reinforced as she reaches out and grips your hip, fingertips digging into the muscular flesh of your buttock.</p><p>"And just so we are clear," She presses on while your skin blazes under her firm touch, "It's absolutely fine for you to have a friend to talk to about these sort of things. And I'm glad you have one you trust. But I want you to know that you can talk to me, too. About <em>anything</em>, also. Whenever you feel like it."</p><p>She is smiling so sincerely, with the same earnestness found in her words, that whatever doubt you had regarding the possibility of her feeling some resentment about discussing things with Leliana instead of her, is promptly banished from your mind.</p><p>"I shall remember that." You promise, flushing warm with sentiment at the brilliance of the answering smile that blooms on her face.</p><p>"Good."</p><p>The promise is sealed with a kiss, impossibly sweet but far too short. It inevitably leaves you craving more, but before you can reclaim her lips, she draws back, out of reach, with a most worrying sparkle of mischief shimmering in her eyes.</p><p>"Now, back to Leliana and our way to thank her for her<em> expert</em> suggestion and thoughtfulness..."</p><p>You roll your eyes to the ceiling and groan loudly in exasperation (and just the right amount of lingering embarrassment), dropping back into the pillows with a muted, feathery <em>thump</em>, pinching the bridge of your nose.</p><p>"Could we please<em> not</em> mention my former fellow Hand right now," <em>who is going to be beyond smug and an insufferable tease about all of this regardless?</em></p><p>Evelyn chuckles and scoots closer. "I swear I fall a little deeper in love with you every time you get so adorably flustered."</p><p>You spring upright at the accusation. "I'm n-not-! I... I haven't... I <em>didn't</em>..." Words, unsurprisingly, as is their prerogative with you, flee from your grasp when you most need them in order to defend yourself. Filling the vacant space with the heated blush scalding your cheeks in their stead, which only reinforces the very same statement that you were trying to deny.</p><p>
  <em>Ugh.</em>
</p><p>You growl and mutter a few Nevarran curses under your breath before dropping back down onto the pillows, resigning yourself to a bruised ego; once again the main casualty of your lover's fond amusement.</p><p>"All right," Evelyn states eventually with a chuckle, mercifully taking pity on you at last. "But we'll both get her something nice," She declares, yawing and curling up against your side as exhaustion wins out against that part of her that delights in flustering you. Your arms reaching out instinctively to draw her closer in spite of everything.</p><p>"Maybe I could gift her one of those rare vintages that I keep down in the cellar." She suggests absently, and you let her, because at least she is focusing on something other than finding new ways to make you blush. "Or I could call on my tailor and shoemaker to have a pair of new shoes designed and commissioned, or maybe gloves. You know... <em>leather-for-leather</em>." She throws you a wink and it's <em>incredible</em> that even when this sleepy she still manages to make it look salacious.</p><p>It's a gift. Truly.</p><p>"You are terrible." You tell her with a disapproving (horribly affectionate) shake of your head.</p><p>She hums and smiles as if you had just complimented her; a grin wide enough to show off her sharp canines and lovely dimples. (And make your heart do somersaults in your chest).</p><p>"You love me for it."</p><p>Andraste preserve you...</p><p>Because you <em>do</em>.</p><p>Beyond words.</p><p>She rambles some more about possible, suitable "thank you's" gifts, but she runs low on ideas soon enough as the weight of drowsiness drags her further away from the waking world, and with your fingertips absently tracing a hypnotic pattern up and down the length of her spine, it doesn't take long before her eyelids grow heavy and she reluctantly starts to succumb to the magnetic pull of sleep.</p><p>She could use some before the banquet tonight.</p><p>And while you are not just as tired, you are more than content to hold her like this and drink in this precious moment.</p><p>You watch her. Admiring the way the late afternoon light caresses her skin and draws hidden shades of bronze and auburn in her long, silky hair. Carefully - as not to risk and stir her from her slow plunge into the Fade - you reach out and run your fingers through it. </p><p>She hums contently, leaning mostly unconsciously into your touch and cuddling further against the warmth of your body and you fall (impossibly so) a little deeper and harder in love with her.</p><p>You wonder if it's still simply just love, though. Because uttering a mere <em>"I love you"</em> does no longer sound like enough to encompass all that you have endured, the wholeness that you have become, <em>together</em>, the things that you have done to keep each other safe. It doesn't seem adequate enough to express the magnitude of the all-consuming sentiment that makes your heart feel so full yet so light all the time.</p><p>By the time you have realized (disappointingly but not unsurprisingly) that - despite your vast vocabulary - your lack of eloquence is still one of your main flaws and thus you are yet unable to find a word that would adequately describe the depths of devotion and affection and <em>faith</em> that you feel for her, she has already fallen asleep, curled contently against your side.</p><p>
  <em>"Cassandra..."</em>
</p><p>She murmurs your name in her sleep.</p><p>Your heart flutters, swelling with a new surge of affection that has your lips curl into a smile.</p><p><em>Words are overrated anyway</em>, you think as you lean in and press a light kiss to her brow.</p><p>
  <em>"Marry me."</em>
</p><p>You startle.</p><p>The steady thrum in your chest stumbles and trips over the next beat before coming to a crashing halt. The only thing keeping it contained inside your chest, are your ribs.</p><p>You draw back, eyes wide, mouth gaping, but-</p><p>Her eyes are closed. </p><p>Her lids fluttering. </p><p>Her breathing even and slow.</p><p>Same as her steady heartbeat.</p><p>But yours...</p><p>Suddenly, yours is all over the place.</p><p>You can hear it thundering in your head and feel it pulsing on the tips of your fingers. Your thoughts a similarly frantic, frenetic jumble.</p><p>But Evelyn remains wholly unaware of the panic coursing through your veins and wreaking havoc inside you.</p><p>She simply cuddles closer to you with a sleepy hum, undoubtedly drawn by the extra couple of degrees that your body has suddenly flared up with.</p><p>
  <em>Is she...</em>
</p><p>Is she simply <em>dreaming</em>?</p><p>Is this something she has considered?</p><p>Is it something she was <em>actually</em> meaning to ask you? And, most importantly, is it how she views your future together after the Inquisition will have restored order? </p><p>...Is it something <em>you</em> want?</p><p>Your mind barely manages to catch up with all the erratic questions bouncing through it. But if the way your heart leaps in your throat and your body flushes even hotter as soon as you picture a simple marital scenery involving the two of you is anything to go by, <em>then...</em></p><p>"...Yes."</p><p>Just like that, you have your answer.</p><p>It slips through your lips with the ease of a breath.</p><p>Evelyn, however, remains blissfully asleep.</p><p>Snoring softly in the space between your shoulder and the pillow.</p><p>Dead to the world.</p><p>An avalanche could occur and tear down half of the Frostbacks. Something in the Arcanist's laboratory in the Undercroft could explode and cause a collapse. A blighted <em>Archdemon</em> could fly by her balcony and screech and spit fire into the room, and <em>still</em> she would keep on strolling the Fade; her sleep would remain (miraculously) undisturbed. Something that part of you might find secretly flattering, in an odd way; knowing that you are part of the reason behind such draining exhaustion.</p><p>But you were already aware of her unconscious state. And you must have said that word out loud to hear how it would sound to your own ears in response to her (not-quite) proposal.</p><p>And the answer tastes so right on your tongue, the images it conjures so sweetly intoxicating in your mind, that you almost get drunk from uttering those three simple letters.</p><p>Your heart filling with so much joy that you are pretty sure it would have pried your ribcage open and burst right out of your chest if it had been a more conscious proposal.</p><p>You weren't expecting a single word to make you feel so...<em>whole.</em></p><p>But, once again, words are overrated, and what you feel for her can't be formed, contained, or (even less) be expressed by any letter of any known language.</p><p>You look at her, with her gorgeous sex-mussed hair, her skin glowing with a thin layer of perspiration result of your passionate lovemaking, her lips slightly parted in a soft snore, and you feel... right where you are supposed to be.</p><p>Right where you belong.</p><p>
  <strong>. . .</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Evelyn has insisted on making a proper gift by summoning her tailor and shoemaker, selecting some of the finest leather from the vast selection of all the beasts you have slain, as well as putting aside an adequate amount of Plush Velvet, Silk Brocade, and Highever Weave from her own personal stock.</p><p>However, in the meantime, you have settled for bringing Leliana a vintage as a thank you.</p><p>"It was my pleasure." Leliana assures you when you bring her the bottle a couple of evenings later at her desk in the rookery. She smiles triumphantly and lifts her freshly poured glass as if in a toast.</p><p>"Actually," You squash the tinge of light embarrassment that colors your cheeks and manage to cover it with a half-smirk. "The pleasure was all <em>ours</em>, believe me."</p><p>Leliana's eyebrows shoot up in a most-pleased look of utter surprise. Her lips curling into a smirk of her own against the rim of the glass before she lowers it down on the table.</p><p>"So it seems." She chuckles still with no trace of judgment whatsoever, only that odd fondness and approval that almost looks like... pride. "It suits you, you know?" She comments, smiling. "This newly discovered layer of boldness."</p><p>You have barely acknowledged its presence, and are still a long way from mastering it, especially since you can only summon it occasionally. But you take the comment for the compliment that it is.</p><p>With a smile, you nod and turn.</p><p>You are quite ready to take your leave when suddenly, another surge of that very same feeling overwhelms your will and steels your nerves with the same force of the thought that springs from where it has been stirring relentlessly in the back of your mind for the past couple of days and ambushes you.</p><p>"Oh, one more thing." You say as your body spins around with a confidence of its own, just in time to see Leliana take the very first sip of wine. "Do you have any advice regarding engagement rings?"</p><p>It's equal parts boldness and pettiness, you realize.</p><p>But that's how the former Left Hand of the Divine, current Inquisition Spymaster, and soon-to-be crowned Divine Victoria, almost ends up choking to death on a sip of expensive, extremely rare, Antivan imported, 8:56 Blessed,  vintage Bordeaux.</p><p>The trajectory of the resulting spray is - in your humble opinion - fairly impressive.</p><p>As you stumble over to make sure that the future hope of the entire Chantry doesn't die by your petty retaliation for all the friendly, mostly-innocent teasing that she's been putting you through for these past few <em>weeks,</em> you make a mental note about presenting the same inquiry to Josephine instead. The Ambassador has impeccable taste as well as connections to several, respectable, and <em>legitimate</em> Dwarven gems-mining Guilds.</p><p>It matters little either way.</p><p>Leliana is also exceptionally well-connected <em>and</em> can keep a secret like the grave.</p><p>But the crevices between the thick stone walls of the rookery have ears.</p><p>And you are ready to wager that by nightfall, your inquiry to the Spymaster will be interpreted for what it is by whoever heard it. The consequent rumor will have spread and grown into the story that will inevitably (and quite mysteriously) be heard and told and <em>spun</em> in a thousand different ways through the entire Keep.</p><p>But you don't worry too much.</p><p>Hopefully, Evelyn won't hear a whisper of any version of it. Or if she does, she will think of it as nothing other than the usual nonsense gossip going around in Skyhold among the agents.</p><p><em>And who knows... </em>You think, guiltily patting Leliana's back to ease her coughing fit, <em>You managed it once. Maybe you'll be able to surprise your lover again.</em></p><p>And if you are<em> very lucky</em>, then you'll have the chance to try and succeed in such intent, hopefully, for the rest of your life.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I might end the story here... Or I might add another, shorter chapter as an epilogue. Who knows. In the meantime, please do propose to your lovers in your sleep. Makes for interesting conversations, I'm sure.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Who asked for the epilogue?</p><p>Absolutely no one! So this one here is basically for my very own, very personal satisfaction. </p><p>However, since I posted it, I guess you can read it, too :P</p><p>I have updated the tags by the way. So maybe check those out first since this conclusive chapter includes some stuff that might not be everyone's cup of tea. Or... you know, don't, if you are into anything as long as it is safe sane and consensual. (And if you want it to be a surprise).</p><p>*Speaking with a dramatic voice*: "The choice is yours."</p><p>That being said...</p><p>Enjoy</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The stretch is a strain.</p><p>A pressing sting you weren't prepared your body to accept so willingly, or for it to feel so exquisite.</p><p>The pleasure it unfurls once you get properly adjusted from that initial knot of overwhelming pressure, clouds your mind and makes you a dizzy, shivering, incoherent, babbling mess.</p><p>In a futile attempt to regain some of your basic functions, you press your forehead to the bed and suck in the first one of many shaky breaths.</p><p>"You are doing so well, my love." Evelyn encourages from where she is pressed deep inside you from behind.</p><p>Her words a soothing balm of tenderness. Her touch on the small of your back a soft caress blazing with the purest affection.</p><p>"My sweet, darling girl. You are being so good for me." She praises and you can only whimper and shiver some more in response. Small little sounds that slightly rise in pitch when another blissful thick inch slides inside you.</p><p>A shiver of pleasure licks up your spine, raising gooseflesh in its wake. Your fingers flex, hands fisting the bedcovers as a  guttural groan rumbles in your chest. Your hips tilting back with an eager instinct of their own, but the hand pressing gently on the small of your back restrains the greed of such movement.</p><p>"Slowly, my love."</p><p>A wave of affection and frustration washes over you at the caring, mindful reminder and denial resting behind the halting gesture. They war upon themselves until the burning need wins out.</p><p>"P-please..." You beg her, too far gone to feel even the slightest bit embarrassed when you spread yourself a bit wider for her.</p><p>A humming sound of appreciation comes from behind you at the shameless invitation. Soft, delicate hands tracing every inch of skin they can reach and you choke on a sob at the amount of devotion that you can feel behind such a simple gesture.</p><p>"It's all right," Evelyn reassures you. "I'm here." </p><p>And then, what you were really hoping to hear from her.</p><p>"Let me take care of you."</p><p>Even in your current predicament, with the haze of lust distorting your senses, it isn't lost on you the way her lovely voice is slowly dropping into a low, sultry husk. Her tone shifting into something raw and primal.</p><p>You don't even have to ask yourself if hearing such change might be the reason behind the new shudder racing through your body, making the pool of desire quietly simmering inside you boil.</p><p>"So beautiful..." You hear her murmuring, as a pair of soft,  delicate hands cradle each side of your rear with what you can only describe as utter devotion.</p><p>"Oh, what a sight you make like this." She says, and even though the compliment drips with the most genuine awe, you can feel every inch of your skin flushing hotter, as if able to sense the intensity of her scrutiny aimed somewhere so...  private. </p><p>"One to behold, indeed."</p><p>Too much.</p><p>"E-Evelyn..." You stutter, not even knowing what you are asking of her. But she is there, ready to listen to every request you might make.</p><p>"Yes, my love?"</p><p>
  <em>Maker...</em>
</p><p>The tenderness in her voice seems to add a whole new level of affection in something you never thought could be any more intimate.</p><p>It takes your breath away.</p><p>Quite literally, in fact.</p><p>"Breathe, my darling." Evelyn takes notice and instructs, one of her hands traveling up to rest against the side of your ribcage, and it's beyond ridiculous that it's only because of her touch that your body suddenly remembers about how you are supposed to fulfill such base instinct. Compared to the need throbbing deep down in your lower belly, the one for oxygen seems like a dismissable one.</p><p>Your lungs, however, disagree <em>completely</em> when you manage to suck in a breath and they burn with relief as air expands them.</p><p>"There you go." Evelyn comments, pleased. "Such a good girl."</p><p>The praise has your inner temperature and skin flare a few degrees hotter, but you manage to cool the feeling down by keeping up a more regular breathing.</p><p>The steadiness of the rhythm also seems to please Evelyn, enough for her to start moving again.</p><p>And when she does, slowly, carefully, as if to help gently coax out of you with every single thrust what you were about to ask of her but a minute ago- what you <em>need</em> but cannot voice - your body is reminded about the vice grip of pleasure holding it hostage just over the edge.</p><p>The pillow strategically placed under your hips grants you comfort while also allowing Evelyn to thrust at the most pleasurable angle that is quickly driving you mad with need.  And the way your sex is teased by the brush of fabric only serves as yet another reminder.</p><p>"I'm... so close." You sob into the mattress. A desperation in your voice that gets once more soothed by the simple touch of a gentle, loving hand on your hip, and the impossibly sweet press of lips against the sweaty skin at the back of your neck.</p><p>The momentary shift in position that brings her forward to allow the kiss, has her pressing slightly deeper inside you. As a result, a startled cry of pleasure gets promptly ripped from your throat.</p><p>"Tell me what you need." She breathes against your nape, and the only sound that you manage when you try to speak, is a pitifully needy whimper that falls from your lips at her next, deep thrust. A sound that should tell her what you need simply by listening to it, and the motion that has earned it.</p><p>But you know that <em>that</em> alone won't suffice.</p><p>Not when Evelyn will answer requests only composed with actual words, even though she already <em>knows</em> precisely what you need.</p><p>"Tell me," She urges, patiently, a hand pressing firmly,  knowingly, on your lower back to prevent you from chasing her retreat. "And I'll grant it to you."</p><p>She will.</p><p><em>Andraste have mercy...</em> Because you know she will be good on her word if you ask properly.</p><p>But that's precisely the problem, isn't it?</p><p>Forming a coherent answer.</p><p>It's already a struggle for you on most days to find words. </p><p>So how are you ever going to be able to shift your focus from where a swirl of stinging pain melts into the pleasure that blooms within you as Evelyn slides slowly, mindfully, into you from behind, from where you have never tried before and never expected to experience the resulting, surprising pleasure with such raw, visceral intensity.</p><p>The hand on your lower back gets taken away, and your hips immediately try to take advantage by following her retreat at the next, slow, deep thrust- unwilling to let her go. Chasing that foreign and most exquisite fullness that has your empty  cunt clench with envy around nothing. Any thought about subsiding that ache, however, is quickly dismissed. Were she to penetrate you there also, you fear it would be too much.  And you just need<em> a little</em>. Something small but <em>there</em>.  Sufficient enough to nudge you over the edge.</p><p>Having finally recognized what your body needs- or rather <em>demands</em>, urgently so - you swallow, bringing moisture to your dry throat before attempting to speak again.</p><p>"T-touch me," You request, in a broken, shaky plea that you think of nothing short of miraculous considering the mushy state your lover has reduced you into.</p><p>But it's not enough.</p><p>It's too generic.</p><p>Too little.</p><p>And while a part of you still <em>hopes</em> that Evelyn will recognize the enormity of your effort and take pity on you, the other is ready for the question that follows suit.</p><p>"Where?"</p><p>In any other circumstance- or rather, in similar circumstances that weren't so... unconventional and novel- you would think she was simply being her deliberate teasing self.</p><p>Right now, however, there is none of that familiar playfulness laced in her voice. And you can clearly hear the undercurrent in the question that seems to reassure, without the shadow of a doubt, that you'll be granted <em>anything</em> you ask of her.</p><p>"Inside?" She inquires, helpfully, her hand already sliding down your back.</p><p><em>Maker yes!</em> Part of you screams, your cunt clenching eagerly at the proposition. A new gush of heat pouring out of you as if in greetings as soon as her long, deft fingers get within reach.</p><p>But no... <em>No.</em></p><p><em>Too much.</em> The remaining shreds of reason left in you warn.</p><p>It would be too much. And you would most likely forget entirely how to breathe and consequently faint were she to fill you there, also.</p><p>"N-no," You manage to croak. "Just... <em>touch</em> me."</p><p>You can easily picture the adoring smile on her face when she readily answers your slightly more coherent request with an eager,  "As you wish, my love."</p><p>And just like that, the hand that she was sneaking right below where she is sliding inside you with deep, languid thrusts, is redirected with a new purpose. Confidently climbing your hip and trailing low, past your lower belly and the trimmed patch of hair at your pubis, trapping itself between your body and the pillow placed there to help you keep a slightly elevated position. And from there, those long, talented fingers slide between the heated, tender flesh of your slick folds, finding the hard, throbbing bud of your clit and-</p><p>
  <em>"Maker!"</em>
</p><p>If the pleasure swirling inside you a few moments ago was a  quietly escalating simmer, it flares like a bonfire the moment  Evelyn starts circling that hard little bundle of nerves.</p><p>Your hips stuttering uncertainly between rocking back to take her deeper and canting forward to chase the slippery,  circling motion of those talented fingers.</p><p>You are there. You just need those thrusts to lose some of the caring consideration behind them and to be just <em>a little</em>-</p><p>"H-harder." <em>Please, please, please</em> every fiber of your being begs. Trying to convey your need by rocking back against her, meeting her halfway.</p><p>And Evelyn, even though you can feel her stutter with uncertainty and hesitation for a moment, eventually, after a  minor adjustment to her current position that has her leaning forward, pressing her front against your back, and bracing herself by gripping your hip more firmly,  grants your wish, whispering her assent in a brush of lips against your shoulder blade.</p><p>"Anything you want my love."</p><p>A deliciously hard thrust follows, and sparks of light erupt behind your eyelids.</p><p>Sweet merciful Andraste,<em> yes!</em></p><p>She easily picks up a rhythm and you eagerly accept everything she gives you.</p><p>It's not rough, but it's also no longer slow and languid.</p><p>It's... <em>precisely</em> what you need. </p><p>Nothing more nor less.</p><p>And even though a sizable part of you wishes that you could prolong the wonderful agony that is balancing you there over the edge, you get caught in that exquisite push and pull, and before you know it, with just another few, perfectly-drawn circles around your clit, your entire body seizes up. Shattering in a million pieces when the apex of the next, deep, delightfully hard thrust sends you tumbling down that precipice.</p><p>You come with a howl.</p><p>Clenching impossibly tight around the thick shaft splitting you open.</p><p>A never-before-experienced variety of pleasure washes over you with the overwhelming force of a tidal wave, assaulting your senses without mercy. Blinding you with sparks of light exploding behind your eyelids. Deafening you with the roaring rush of blood to your head. Setting your skin and every nerve ending on fire. Starving your lungs of air.</p><p>If anything though, the temporary apnea makes your plunge into that abyss infinitely more intense and lasting.</p><p>You are only distantly aware of Evelyn sliding in and out of you, the pace ever-so-slightly faster, the thrusts still deep and full but also having regained their previous careful and mindful rhythm now that you have come, as they were when you first started, displaying enviable control while you lose yours it like never before (enjoying it like you never thought could be possible).</p><p>However - while the rocking motion of her hips holds that cautious attentiveness - the hand that she has sneaked between your legs on your request is far less timid. Her fingers lacking any hesitation as they draw quick, perfect circles over the straining, slick bud of your clit.</p><p>You growl and grunt and hiss as your hips rock back with a will of their own to greedily meet the end of each one of her thrusts,  craving to feel her pressing deeper and then grind forward in search of more direct pressure.</p><p>It's probably this, you realize - the combination of mixed sensations - what makes the peak of your pleasure last for a  seemingly infinite minute.</p><p>The release coursing through your body is as exhilarating as it leaves you exhausted, in the most fulfilling way imaginable.</p><p>And that is only thanks to Evelyn's thoughtfulness, who directs her loving, devoted care to make sure you ride your climax in full. Leading you all the way up to that peak, rocking a bit harder into you as it crests, and then, gently guiding your body through every single shudder of aftershock for the entire descent.</p><p>By the time you are coming back down to earth, every ounce of strength has been sapped out of you. And you suddenly understand why Evelyn suggested such a position at the beginning of all of this. Because there is no way your limbs would have been able to support your weight were you to rest on your hands and knees like you originally pictured this scenario in your head.</p><p>This way, you can simply go slack against the overstuffed mattress. Panting and gasping for air to fill your starved lungs in between the tiny shudders racing through the rest of your body with the tail-end remnants sparks of pleasure.</p><p>It takes a while for those to subside, leaving you tingling a bit all over.</p><p>When Evelyn slides out of you, it's both a relief and a loss at the same time. A feeling that is simultaneously so very similar and completely foreign from how you are used to perceiving her pulling out from your cunt.</p><p>But while the sensation might be familiar on some level, you immediately register the greatest difference of all as soon as you start to settle properly into your own body again and feel the exhaustion that has sucked the strength from your muscles and seeped deep into your bones.</p><p>This particularly intense session has left you utterly spent.</p><p>Tender and sensitive.</p><p>But also - you realize with mild surprise the moment you are made aware of the hot wetness of tears staining your cheeks and smearing onto the bedcovers, pairing them with an odd,  foreign hollowness in your chest slowly crawling its way up into your throat - emotionally needy in a way you weren't quite prepared for.</p><p>"Evelyn..." Your tear-strained voice calls out for her, whether in a request or for something else, you don't know.</p><p>Luckily, Evelyn - being one of the most perceptive persons you have ever known and been with - sees it all at once (probably before you can even properly recognize what is it that you are truly feeling) and she doesn't waste a moment to pull you into her arms as soon as she has removed and discarded the toy. Providing you with the kind of comfort and affection and <em>warmth</em> that your very soul has been left craving after such an experience.</p><p>"I'm here, love."</p><p>And only then, when her arms are safely wrapped around you, holding you tightly against her, you do feel full and whole. A swirl of profound satisfaction, contentedness, and overwhelming affection filling up that hollow space caved in your chest. The knot of emotion that had formed in your throat, unraveling.</p><p>"You were so good, my love." She praises, cuddling you from behind and planting a trail of soft, loving kisses on your shoulders and back. One pressing with impossible tenderness right against the now long-healed, scarred entry wound of a  poisoned arrow.</p><p>"So beautiful."</p><p>You melt into her embrace and sigh, taking stock of your body. Raw and aching in the most sensitive places. But the feeling is laced with the similar, familiar satisfaction of a day spent training.</p><p>Evelyn has been beyond loving and considerate, using every known precaution - as well as a generous amount of lubricant  - all to ensure that your first time trying this was going to be nothing but enjoyable under every aspect.</p><p>And it has.</p><p>
  <em>Maker if it has...</em>
</p><p>You remember when you first managed to gather enough courage to make the request to her. You remember the burn of embarrassment that had threatened to eat you up from the inside. And you remember, just as vividly, the way she has kissed you afterward, with so much sentiment and reassurance that the sizzle of embarrassment had evaporated, and the remnants of those embers had been pushed lower, deeper in your belly, where a fire of an entirely other nature had roared to life.</p><p>"I can't even find the words to give justice to how delightful a  vision you were," Evelyn confesses, brushing the tip of her nose up and down the curve of your neck, successfully pulling you out of your thoughts, and after you have blinked and dispelled the haze of those memories and returned to the present, you can't help but chuckle, suspecting that she must be making up the compliments now.</p><p>"Is that so?"</p><p>As you will your muscles to cooperate so that you can reach up with one hand to wipe away the drying shimmer of your tears and make yourself somewhat presentable before you can turn around to face her, however, you realize how incredibly wrong your assumption about her was.</p><p>Because in the moment you turn and your gazes meet, there you find nothing staring back at you but the deepest devotion and the most profound affection rippling in the deep blue of her eyes.  A look so intense and pure that has your breath catch in your throat.</p><p>"You know that I'm not religious," She starts, reaching out with one hand to delicately brush the pad of her thumb along your cheekbone over a drying tear you must have missed.</p><p>"But I must admit that it's hard not to believe in some deity after witnessing the breathtaking, heart-stopping spectacle you just gifted me with."</p><p>You divert your gaze with a scoff, but the sound is forced.  Mostly emitted in hope that it will disrupt the spell she has cast on you so that you'll be able to recollect some of your composure. But your heart does summersaults in your chest upon hearing her words, and your cheeks betray you more visibly as they flare up with heat at the absolute earnestness of her confession.</p><p>Coming from the woman who has witnessed and experienced the most impossible things like: walking the Fade in the flesh,  <em>twice</em>, saving the world from getting swallowed by the  Breach (<em>also</em> twice), and defeated a Blight-corrupted,  would-be-God Magister - the admission is... most flattering to say the least.</p><p>And of course, they aren't merely words.</p><p>When you dare to glance back at her again, you can clearly see, even in the dim light of the candles scattered around the room, how much she means what she just said the moment you gaze into her eyes and find that adoring shimmer blazing ten times brighter in them than it was but a few moments ago.</p><p>"Marry me, Cassandra."</p><p>A warm joy springs and swells in your chest, inflating it until the pressure crawls up your throat and bursts forth from your lips in the form of a breathless, gasped puff of a laugh.</p><p>At least this time she is actually <em>awake </em>when she makes the proposal.</p><p>But it matters little.<em> Because-</em></p><p>"I thought I already did," You say, reaching for her hand, where a simple, thin, modest, twined vine silver band ring wraps around her annular. The constellation of tiny gems encircling it catching the moonlight streaming from the window above the bed and blinking with the same soft, warm glimmer of your afterglow.</p><p>"Or has the sex haze that has been lifted during these first two days into our honeymoon somehow managed to burn away the memory of the ceremony already?"</p><p>You may be teasing her, but you also understand, perfectly, <em>deeply</em>, the elation that has prompted the proposal during such a tender, emotional moment. As well as you understand the dreamy quality of the smile on her face. In fact, you are pretty sure your own features are matching it quite accurately.</p><p>"How could I <em>ever</em> forget, when all our friends were in attendance, and her Perfection Divine Victoria <em>Herself</em> has united us." She smirks.</p><p>"And when one of the brides has <em>insisted</em> on having the  Tevinter Ambassador <em>and</em> the Viscount of Kirkwall to sign as  witnesses." You add, glaring at her simply because Varric and his own awfully pleased, smirking face, as well as the soon-to-be Magister and his terrible, innuendos-dripping toasts, aren't (luckily for them and unfortunately for you)  anywhere in the vicinities for you to stare accusing holes into.</p><p>"Oh, come on!" She laughs. "Think about all the wild stories people will tell when those two will divulge their own versions of the event!"</p><p>"That's <em>precisely</em> the only thing I can think of." You grumble, thinking about the kind of mischief and mayhem those two can come up with and stir up when in the same room. Especially when the attention of a tavern full of people hanging from their every word and a few good pitchers of wine are involved in making their stories all the more absurd.</p><p>"Is it, now?"</p><p>You blink your scowl away and look at Evelyn, whose smirk has grown into something positively salacious.</p><p>"Then I must have made a poor job of satisfying you, my dear <em>wife</em>."</p><p>O-oh.</p><p>You didn't mean to insinuate...</p><p>But you did, didn't you?</p><p>Because she definitely <em>hasn't</em>.</p><p>In fact, she has made a great, most <em>wonderful</em> job in sating your curiosity and quenching your desire.</p><p>Not to mention that given the novelty of your latest...  performance... and the additional attentiveness that such activity required, she has been as thorough and loving and careful with all of her attentions as never before. But that <em>word-</em> "wife" - the reminder and giddy, swooning newness of it all, still makes your heart leap in the most delightful way you don't think you'll ever get used to.</p><p>A fresh wave of heat pools in your lower belly in spite of your recent, draining, vertigo-inducing orgasm.</p><p>"Give me another chance," She pleads in that low sultry voice that has that tight coil of warmth melt and drip from your sex as she turns you over onto your back and climbs on top of you, all smooth skin and softness and <em>purpose</em> rippling in the blue of her eyes with an intensity that has you caught.</p><p>"Just one more chance," She repeats, making her way down your body in between reverent kisses and equally adoring caresses until she settles comfortably between your legs,  gripping them firmly and spreading them wide open with the unmistakable sort of intention that has you forget how to breathe all over again.</p><p>"And by the time I'll be done with you," She continues, voice loaded with the same weight of promise that it held two days ago when she recited her vows to you in the gardens of the Winter Palace. "I swear you won't be able to remember half of your names."</p><p>That... sounds more like a blessing rather than a threat, though.</p><p>But you can barely spare enough focus to will your lungs to expand and deflate, least of all form words to utter such thought.</p><p>So you swallow it down and somehow manage to keep your gaze locked with hers as she punctuates that sweet promise by dragging the flat of her tongue through the slick length of your sex. But when she reaches your clit and sucks it softly into the warmth of her mouth, your eyes inevitably drift shut, and your entire body shakes as if struck by a bolt of lightning.</p><p>One of your hands shoots down to tangle into a fistful of golden-caramel tresses as you throw your head back and moan at the ceiling.</p><p>"Oh, <em>Evelyn</em>..."</p><p>As long as you'll remember hers, you'll know which one to address your pleas, shout in pleasure, and swear your love and devotion to.</p><p>For always.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>Fin</em> </strong>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I've been having... feelings... regarding Cassandra and anal stuff.  Profound feelings that demanded being committed to paper- so to speak. So there you have it! A sappy epilogue to conclude the story. Thanks for sticking with me, and of course, thanks for reading everyone :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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